


Because of the Rules

by FreckledSkittles



Series: Because Of You, I Have Company [2]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Coming Untouched, Erogenous Zones, Hair-pulling, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rutting, Sexual Content, Shower Sex, featuring sonny the bj connoisseur, i cant tell if its explicit or mild so if it should be changed pls tell me, theres so much sex what am i doing, wait is that not a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-05-07 11:09:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19208167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledSkittles/pseuds/FreckledSkittles
Summary: For lack of a better term, Carisi was a fling. A rather attractive fling, with long legs and beautiful dimples and, really, there were few things about Dominick Carisi, Jr. that weren’t pure or perfect. Rafael would have felt bad for calling him a fling if they hadn’t established what they were from the start: sexual opportunists wishing for a sexual relationship, sans romance, with a like-minded individual that had more convenience than an escort but less than an exclusive courtship.In hindsight, it was quite simple. Rafael was just convinced he and Carisi were letting their emotions make it more complicated. At least they had rules—no first names, no back-to-back weekends, no eye contact—to keep them in line.





	1. First Names

**Author's Note:**

> So this is in the same universe as my first Barisi fic except it's just filthy smut that got way out of hand. Like as of me posting this, it's nearly 9k words and I'm not even halfway done with the second half of it. I don't know what I'm doing.
> 
> Anyway: I got the idea from this bc in my basketball Barisi fic (which you don't have to know to read this—this fic is a prequel technically) I made a reference to a personal headcanon that Rafael likes to have his lower back touch and what do you know I wrote about the moment that Sonny found out what it was. Except I had to write Rafael finding out what Sonny's was and then have an elaborate and casual sex scene between the two of them. And that's where I'm at right now
> 
> And you know for someone who hasn't written smut seriously in like, three years, it's not half bad. But I hope you enjoy it and stick around for the second half of this! It's about to get serious

Rafael doesn’t mean to laugh. He truly doesn’t. Maybe a little, in the back of his mind, or later, when he had time to think about the question. As he drifts off to sleep, satisfied and sated by the warm presence sharing a place under the covers with him, he can find the amusement. But it’s extremely difficult to hide the snort and stop the cackle that explodes from him when Carisi asks him a simple and unexpected question. His mother might have scolded him for being so rude, but she wasn’t there, and he could react any way he wanted to something so ridiculous.

“What would you say is your erogenous zone?”

While Rafael laughs in lieu of responding, Carisi pouts and burrows into Rafael’s couch in retaliation. He had been splayed out watching television, his post-cooking-dinner ritual, while Rafael cleaned up dinner. As far as either of them knew, there was no work that required their attention or time, giving them a weekend to spend in loose pajama pants and some old t-shirt from who knows where. Their plans for Saturday night were simple: learn more about each other’s bodies and ignore the larger question of what their relationship has evolved into.

Rafael finishes tidying up and pours them both some coffee. He already has Carisi’s preference memorized, and he prepares it in the Mets mug that has long been at his place. Carisi had assured him its appearance in his cabinet was an accident, but Rafael is sure it’s part of his plan to turn him into a Mets fan.

“Why are you asking something like that?” Rafael wonders, walking over to the couch and sitting beside Carisi’s outstretched legs. He places the mugs on the coffee table, but Carisi just huffs and turns into the couch. “Oh come on. You’re really going to stop watching Cutthroat Cooks?”

“It’s Cutthroat Kitchen,” Carisi corrects, partially muffled from the cushion in his face. “And yeah, if you’re gonna be an ass.”

Rafael shrugs and takes a sip of coffee. “I haven’t even answered your question.”

He looks over at the television—the host has replaced a contestant’s cooking surface to put him to work in an adult-sized baby jumper—if only to distract himself from the raised head and slightly flushed cheeks. Rafael feels a bit bad, thinking of the blush as something from embarrassment rather than flattery. They had spent more personal time together, meeting each other in their apartments at various levels of undress. Sometimes they sat and watched mindless reality shows. Mostly, they talked and shared company. Almost always, the night ended with sex, the real motivation of their personal relationship, devoid of anything that would warrant disclosure. He should provide some mercy.

Carisi sits up and pulls his legs up to his chest. He had only made stops at his apartment to grab supplies for dinner, which meant his hair had stayed gel-free for the day. The dark blond strands were free to float and flutter over each other, sticking up in different directions from his mushed position. “Go ahead then. Answer away.”

“I’m not going to answer.”

Carisi falls back against the sofa with a drawn-out sigh. “Forget I ever asked. Just let the ground split open and take me now.”

“To be fair, your question was a bit out of nowhere.” Rafael smirks at the huff Carisi sends him. “What even gave you the gall to ask me?”

“I dunno, I was just thinking.” Carisi sits up, if only to take the steaming mug of coffee in his hands, but he stays leaned against the cushions, burrowed into the corner. “I was thinking about what we were gonna do after our coffee, and I wanted to know if there was any way I could please you.”

Rafael feels the tug of a smile start to form but he controls the urge with a scoff. “You please me just by sharing your time with me.”

“And my body has nothing to do with it?”

He shrugs. “A little. A little more weight in the elbows and I might be interested.” Carisi kicks him for the comment. “I’m being serious, though, when I say I’m pleased to have you here. You don’t have to do anything special for me.”

“I know.” Carisi seems to sink further into the couch. He looks so small, pressed against navy blue upholstery in a faded Doors t-shirt. New York City lights peer in from behind the window’s curtain, and a thin splash of light outlines his nose and the crease of his brows. “I was just thinking of something new. Something to keep it interesting.”

“Again—”

“Yeah, I get it, you like having me here.” Carisi smiles, just a bit of the typical happiness he holds, and the lessened tension in his shoulders is clear. “But I can still want to do something nice for my…” He struggles for the word, probably trying to decide on the classification of their relationship before he falls on “bed partner.”

Rafael snorts—it wasn’t necessarily wrong, but it could have been a bit less vague. “That doesn’t explain why you would ask for my erogenous zone.”

“Christ’s sake, Rafael, just—” Carisi plants his feet firmly into his lap and pushes against his thighs, nudging his foot into the space between his legs. “Humor me, will ya?”

“Fine.” He makes a show of rolling his eyes and putting his coffee mug aside, but the smile on his face that, coincidentally, mimics Carisi’s downplays his seriousness. Their first names—or, in Carisi’s case, nickname—were off-limits. The only times one of them broke that pact was to indicate their severity. It was part of their rules for their nights together: no names, no back-to-back weekends, no eye contact.

“Let’s pretend for a second that I never asked you something embarrassing.”

“That would require deleting a majority of our interactions, but if you really want to—”

Carisi cuts him off by kissing him, effectively silencing his protest by giving his mouth something else to occupy his time with. Rafael leans into the contact and rubs the back of his neck; Carisi hums in response, his hands drifting down to his hips and underneath his shirt. The familiar grip running over his skin sends a jolt through Rafael’s gut, and he lets him know of his approval with a soft grunt.

Rafael used to avoid kissing Carisi, if only because the intimacy was overwhelming and only reminded him of the acts he was doing. Carisi was indifferent either way—“that’s not all a kiss is, you know”—but he had limited sharing kisses exclusively in the heat of the moment, when his head was focused on other things and he knew words were unable to communicate his jumbled thoughts. Eventually, with the passing of a few months, Rafael found it easier to kiss him, as long as it was still limited to their agreed-upon personal nights and no other time.

In theory, they  _ could _ kiss romantically. Hell, they could even date and stop shutting the doors whenever one of them even thought of extending into disclosure territory. The reluctance wasn’t because of his kissing abilities—after all, Rafael has had years to perfect and hone his passion, and Carisi quickly proved how well he could use his mouth for things other than talking. And it wasn’t even from a lack of want to kiss him every day—Rafael had put a lot of thought into that idea, but it always seemed to veer away from reality. He was much too old for someone like Carisi, their differences disrupted how compatible they were, they were going through life in different directions. One after another, excuses answered the burning question of why they preferred to spin around each other instead of addressing the lingering stares and fleeting pecks that were starting to feel more intimate each time they happened.

For lack of a better term, Carisi was a fling. A rather attractive fling, with long legs and beautiful dimples and, really, there were few things about Dominick Carisi, Jr. that weren’t pure or perfect. Rafael would have felt bad for calling him a fling if they hadn’t established what they were from the start: sexual opportunists wishing for a sexual relationship, sans romance, with a like-minded individual that had more convenience than an escort but less than an exclusive courtship.

In hindsight, it was quite simple. Rafael was just convinced he and Carisi were letting their emotions make it more complicated.

Carisi breaks the kiss, nuzzling his nose for a brief moment in victory, and picks up where he left off. His breath is hot in the space between them, puffing against his lips and chin. It smells like coffee.

“So,” he says, just a bit breathless, “let’s say I’m not embarrassing.”

“I’m listening,” Rafael answers. In reality, his mind is more focused on the shape of Carisi’s lips and the heat trapped between them.

“Where do you want me to touch you?”

“Everywhere.” 

Carisi smiles, and Rafael can  _ feel _ it, not just the joy it radiates but the stretch on his face and the dimples in his cheeks and the overwhelming sense of duty and obedience to fulfill the request. “Of course. But where do you want it most?”

“Everywhere.” Rafael barely balks at the disappointed glower he receives. “I really don’t care, Carisi.”

Carisi lets out a long sigh but doesn’t protest any further. “Fine.” He leans over so that his breath hits his ear, warm and ticklish against the shell, and he whispers gently, “Have it your way.” With a shift forward, he puts his teeth on the skin just under his jaw and nibbles and pecks his way down his neck. Rafael suppresses a shiver at the wetness left behind. His hands fumble a bit to take his shirt off, and Carisi provides no help by pressing against his neck insistently and running his hands up his bare hips. The hem of his shirt scrapes over Carisi’s fingers.

“The quicker I undress, the more you can touch,” he points out in a mumble. Carisi just hums in acknowledgment, licking up his neck and nibbling under his jaw again. His hands are already fumbling to his pants when he pulls his shirt halfway up his chest. “Carisi—” His teeth scrape against his skin, his nose burrowing against his pulse as he nuzzles further. The demand he wanted to make is left unsaid, replaced by a hot gasp and a squirm of his hips. Rafael doesn’t mind the teasing, but if Sonny wants to pleasure him as he promised, he’ll have to do a lot more work. “Sonny.”

There’s a huff and the rustle of fabric, and Carisi removes the offensive shirt with a flourish. It looks more like muscle memory, months of stripping him bare, than him genuinely wanting it away. “Happy?” Carisi growls in his ear, his tone laced with arousal.

“You wanted to know where you could touch me. I’m just making it easier for you.” Rafael tenses at the fingers that massage his left nipple, rolling over it and tweaking it with every move up his chest. “See, I was under the impression,” he pauses to take a breath, briefly letting his body melt under the lithe hands, “that I was in charge.”

“You are.” Carisi glances up at him as he leans forward and wraps his lips around his nipple. Rafael bucks up, a smile already tugging up as he leans his head back in pleasure. “Just thought I’d be a tease while I make my way down.”

“You aren’t going to find an erogenous zone, if that’s what’s on your mind.”

He can feel Carisi pout against him; he slips off the remainder of the sofa to kneel in between his legs. Carisi massages his fingers into Rafael’s thighs and, in the process, brings his loose pajama pants down further off his hips. Rafael wiggles just enough so that Carisi has easy access to the prominent tent at the front of his pants. Even if the amount of times he’s seen his cock has been innumerable at this point, when he tugs it free, Carisi still licks his lips and eyes the throbbing head like he’s about to taste it for the first time. Rafael finds it admirable, if a bit dorky, but he expects nothing less from the detective.

“If you really don’t have one, I won’t keep you waiting any longer,” Carisi says. His eyes are trained on Rafael’s erection, so his words come out more as an afterthought than anything else.

“Go ahead,” Rafael gestures. He pairs the wave with a smile and a shift of his hips upwards. And since he’s so nice, he won’t even mention the eager glint in Carisi’s eyes or the not-so-subtle wipe of the corner of his mouth before he dives in.

Carisi had once bragged, jokingly, and breathlessly after a shared night, about the compliments his mouth had received. Granted, his job limited his sexual exploration as much as Rafael’s did, so the accuracy of it was probably exaggerated a bit. Rafael had never  _ voiced _ his agreement nor did he plan to, even though he was impressed with just how accurate Carisi was. And if he didn’t stop getting better every time he so much as breathed on his erection, it was going to be harder for Rafael to hold that praise back.

When Carisi’s mouth closes around the head of his cock, the feeling of euphoria is instantaneous and overwhelming. Rafael digs his hands into his thighs to hold back the yell he wants to release. The inside of Carisi’s mouth is warm and wet, his tongue prodding the underside of his dick. Any precome he can feel leaking is captured by Carisi’s plump lower lip and the drizzle of saliva he supplies. The suction starts when the head of his cock scrapes past his slick cheeks to hit the back of Carisi’s throat, and Rafael chokes on a groan when he swallows at the contact.

Carisi’s cheeks create a fleshy and narrow cavern for his cock to slide through that, for a brief moment, feels overwhelming. Rafael scrambles for some sort of control, something to keep him grounded in the moment. His hands find a brief relief in his thighs, but he finds it too ostracizing, too separated from the man settled between his knees. Carisi slides his mouth up and off him before he starts suckling on the base, just teasing his balls. Rafael lunges forward; he was able to keep his sounds to a minimum of pants and gasps, but that single action drags a litany of Spanish swears and keens from him. Almost instantly, his hands lurch and fall in Carisi’s hair, tangled in the dark blond strands and pulling.

The sound Carisi emits nearly pulls his heart out of his chest. Rafael pauses his tugging to look down at Carisi, who is pointedly looking away from him. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Carisi quickly answers. He brings his eyes back on the erection in front of him, as if he had been paying attention to it all along. He gives his dick a fairly long lick, probably a ploy to distract him from the sound that had escaped his throat.

“Did you whine?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

“Carisi—”

“Rafael.” Carisi places his mouth back around Rafael, but one tug of his hand in his hair pulls a long moan from him. The sound bounces vibrations against his cock, erotic and wet and deep. Rafael fails, again, to keep his laugh back.

“I didn’t take you for a hair-puller.”

“Shuddup,” Carisi utters into his crotch and occupies himself with drawing more sounds from above him by sucking and bobbing his head. Rafael shudders and groans again; he lets his head fall back, if only for a second, and drowns in the suction. With his back pressed against the couch like this, he can let out his approval without much hindrance except his own will. But Carisi makes it much more difficult. When Rafael scratches at his scalp, Carisi practically melts against him. The circles that rub right under his ear increase the suction of his cheeks and send him deeper into his mouth. His sounds are teetering on sloppy slurping, and Rafael didn’t have to ask to know that Carisi was embarrassed he was doing something so unrefined from his typical blowjobs.

(Sure, it was just a blowjob, and Rafael wasn’t that picky in the heat of the moment, but Carisi was dedicated to setting the scene when he got on his knees, and sloppy blowjobs were a request, not an expectation. Rafael once called him a blowjob snob. He got a decent rimming for the comment, and may or may not have been teased for the better half of an afternoon after producing extremely lewd sounds, but it had been worth it.)

“Do you want me to stop?” Rafael reaches around his head to scratch at the base of his neck, where the hair is soft and free to curl against his skin. Carisi sags against his legs, just barely held up by the hands positioned under his knees. The shake of his head at the question seems to take all of his focus to make.

“Keep going. I like it.” Carisi moves back to wipe his mouth, and his smile is all teeth and dimples. “Hope you don’t mind how sloppy it is, though.”

“I could always fuck your mouth.” Sonny shudders at the suggestion, and Rafael gives him a devilish half-smile. “I would hate to ruin the reputation your skill in blowing has built up.”

With a roll of his shoulders and a shuffle on his knees, Sonny gets into position and opens his mouth without another word. Rafael allows himself one dry chuckle, another running hand through his hair, and then he slides his cock into the wet and patient cavern.

Rafael uses Sonny’s hair as leverage to fuck into his mouth. With each thrust he makes, his hands clench at gray temples, uncurling when he pulls out of the slacked opening. Sonny’s tongue flicks forward for a tease and catches a dribble of precome at the motion. His moan evolves quickly into a whimper as Rafael slides back into him, nudging at the back of his throat. He isn’t sure if the detective is more distracted from the pulling of his hair or the pressure that makes his throat flutter. Rafael’s thrusts are solid and quick, and he can feel the throb from the base of his cock to the tip as if his own body is begging to release down Sonny’s throat.

Sonny, meanwhile, is pliant under his hands. His mouth stays relaxed and open, almost automatically, another move of muscle memory. When Rafael pulls back to allow him to catch his breath, the exhaled puffs he lets out are hot and ticklish, creating a contrast to the spit on his member. His hands have lingered down his calves and now grip Rafael’s ankles, although the hold has slackened with each thrust forward and each swallow that tugs his cock in. Rafael releases one side of his head, admiring the hair bunched together as a result, but his other one stretches out and digs in. Sonny shuts his eyes, and he clamps his mouth shut to whine in earnest.

“Pull it,” he says, words drifting somewhere in a dazed ecstasy and a thirsty lust. Rafael fulfills the request, tugging his hand outward while keeping Sonny’s hair between his fingers, and the gasp is high and breathy. If they hadn’t outlawed eye contact, Rafael might have enjoyed the dusty look in the blue eyes he snuck admiring glances at when Sonny wasn’t looking. “Y-yeah, yeah, like that, c’mon.”

Rafael pulls again. Sonny  _ keens _ and shuffles his hips, panting when he finds zero relief in what must surely be uncomfortably tight pants. He opens his mouth and sighs at the heavy pressure that sits on his tongue. Rafael makes his thrusts shallower, digging into his cheek and tongue, and when Sonny swallows around him, shifting forward to take him just that much deeper, it feels like a dam has collapsed. Rafael thrusts one more time as he comes; one hand, the one previously pulling, pets the top of Sonny’s head while the other digs in and tugs. His arms fall lifeless when the last few spurts dribble out. Sonny—Carisi had moved back then, gasping for air and shuddering, but he laps up whatever he had missed with one fell swoop of his tongue.

Rafael’s hair is matted to his forehead with sweat, and despite the relaxed state of his limbs, he still feels a heavy weight on his chest as he tries to slow his breathing down. Carisi moves to sit beside him again, though not without pulling the coffee mug to his lips and taking a sip. Rafael chuckles at the disapproving glare he gives to the definitely cold drink.

“You should have known better,” Rafael chides softly. Carisi just shrugs and puts it back delicately on the table. “Let me get my heart rate to a regular level before we start another round.”

“Take your time,” Carisi says. The smile that ghosts his lips is satisfied yet warm. “I’m not in a hurry.”

Rafael glances to his crotch; Carisi had been slow to get up, his legs wobbly, but when he had sat down, he kept his legs separated. Like keeping them together would be uncomfortable. “You came in your pants.”

The smile is gone. Carisi pouts and leans into the couch cushions. “Shut up.”

“Untouched?”

Carisi shoves him and barks out a laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He shakes his head when Rafael just shrugs at him. “Nah. I won’t give you the satisfaction.”

“Hmm.” Rafael picks up his own mug, swirling the cold liquid around and preparing himself for the bitterly cold taste. “I guess I’ll have to see for myself then.”

Carisi gulps audibly and nearly chokes on his own sip of cold coffee. Rafael just laughs.

He is true to his word. Once they finish off their drinks and undress completely, Rafael drags him to bed and asks, rather nicely, if he could take Carisi from behind. While pulling his hair. Without touching him. Carisi is already fumbling for the bottle of lube and a condom before Rafael can even finish his request. And once he encases himself inside Carisi, and he finds purchase in messy blond, and loses himself to wet keens and a tightened entrance, Rafael finds his answer.

 

* * *

 

The best way to maintain their relationship and keep up an aura of credulity was to separate their shared nights. Rafael and Carisi only saw each other at work, and on one occasion at the bar for the squad’s night out, and it stayed that way for two weeks. When they arranged their next weekend together, it was on Carisi’s initiative.

“You doing anything this weekend?” He asks. The interns who usually helped Rafael out with paperwork or reviewing evidence for cases were off doing other things, probably getting wasted or catching up on sleep, so he asked Carisi to come in instead. It was completely normal, maybe more common when he was still in law school, but it was for a case SVU was on, so there was zero reason for suspicion.

“Nothing specific,” Rafael offers. He is more focused on the evidence scattered across his desk, highlighting specific points in his notes and crafting an opening statement for court. “I had an invitation to a wine tasting out on Long Island. Might stay out in Montauk if I get the chance.”

“Montauk, huh? It’s been a while since I’ve been out that far.”

“It’s a good chance for some alone time, experience an actual beach, catch up on some reading.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

Rafael looks up at Carisi, already sensing something off from the reply. Carisi is reading over the casework, the arm propped up on the armrest toying idly with his hair, his legs spread, one of them hopping furiously in place. Carisi is generally quiet about any talk about his mental health, but the jittery leg and worried hand are easy tells that something is on his mind and keeping him anxious. He’s seen it in courtrooms before verdicts are released and in the squad room waiting for answers enough times to know what it looks like. “Was there something else you wanted to say?”

Carisi doesn’t glance at him, but he shifts uncomfortably and shrugs his shoulders. “Err, y’know, nothing out of the usual. The, uh, the last time you mentioned wine was that time in Little Italy, with the white wine and apple cider.”

Oh. Rafael knows the code instantly—as he should, as one of its co-creators. In the event that they find themselves planning their raunchy weekends at work, they paired up a few words—rather symbolic, at least to Rafael—into a code to arrange their weekends. Rafael knows Carmen is hardly a nosy person, but the door is open, and she has slyly suggested how much he and Carisi compliment each other. He would rather be safe than sorry. “That wine was apple cider, wasn’t it?”

A suggestion of another fruit would have told Carisi that he was genuinely busy, that they would have to wait another weekend. But Rafael confirming the cider as apple is all that needs to be said: they will see each other this weekend. Friday, when they both get off work. And since he specified Little Italy, and not Melrose, for the location, Carisi was inviting him over to his apartment. Besides, the wine tasting wasn’t bound to his calendar; it was with a few college friends, and two of them had canceled already.

Carisi smiles, and his next words are meant to be joking. Anyone who walked in on them would take it as the detective sharing a joke and not as a relishing in classified plans. “I didn’t take you for a wine guy.”

“I have it in intervals. Much like how it ages: long and rich.”

And that’s all that has to be said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended with a dick joke haha
> 
> Hopefully, with me posting this, I can convince my brain that it has indeed made progress and it can rest knowing that all of this writing was for something. And hopefully it won't be twelve years from now!


	2. Back-to-Back Weekends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carisi blinks at the question. Almost like he didn’t expect to be asked. “No,” he answers. His hand slides back into place against his lower back, and Rafael throws his head back at the sensitive spot, a shuddering inhale slipping out. He doesn’t have to look to see the shock on Carisi’s face, the wide blue eyes with blown-out pupils or the anxious lick of his lips while he thinks of his next move. He can hear it in his voice. “Are you okay? Do y’wanna slow down or—”
> 
> Rafael raises his hips, still keeping hold of Carisi’s wrist, and when he slides back down into his lap, he lets out a small yell. Carisi grunts and grabs his right hip, either to steady him or to lend a hand. As long as his other hand stays on his back, pressing against his skin and scratching at every clench, he can do anything. Throw him on the coffee table and break it with the force. Bend him over and thrust into him, pushing onto his back to not only feel every plunge he makes inside but to limit his movements so that the only thing he can do is take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that one time I said this was gonna be two chapters HAHA ME TOO except now it's three bc I have no self-control and I just have a lot to say and more about this story to add okay
> 
> There are some filthy boys in this btw let me tell you they don't hold anything back

Carisi smiles at Rafael when he knocks on his door Friday night with a bottle of white wine and a knowing smirk. “C’mon, did you have to bring this?”

“You still have clothes on,” Rafael notes. “I thought you’d be ready to start the minute I walked in.”

“Technically, you’re still in the hallway.” He takes the wine bottle and steps aside to let Rafael in. Rafael barely has his coat off before the door is shut and he is pressed against it, the neck of the wine bottle butting into his hip. “There.” Carisi smiles down at him, his free hand fumbling to get his tie undone. “Now I’m ready.”

Rafael sighs quietly at the motion and shifts his hips forward. “I thought you wanted me to cook _fritas_ for dinner.”

“Changed my mind.” Carisi sets the wine bottle down on the floor so he can tug at Rafael’s waistband, toying with the fabric ends of his suspenders. “Would rather have you.”

Rafael scoffs and rolls his eyes at the sentiment, but he doesn’t shoot the suggestion down. Dinner could wait. Besides, he had been waiting an unnecessary amount of time to hold Carisi against him, on top of him, and let him worship every inch of his body. As much as he held the belief of sexual partners switching “roles” and taking turns for who was on a receiving end of sex, there was nothing quite like Carisi’s lean hips rolling into him and watching the pleasure flicker across his face at the heat trapped around him.

(Which, for the record, he had never stared at or tugged down to kiss. And he certainly never stole a glimpse at the dazed gleam to his eyes or relished the way they nearly crossed when he climaxed with stuttering hips and guttural groans. Because of the rules.)

“As long as you don’t go hunting for my erogenous zone,” Rafael breathes out, sliding out of his jacket with a few flicks of his arms, “then you can eat anything you want.”

Carisi rolls his eyes but leads him to the living room regardless. His apartment is smaller than Rafael’s, but it feels just as fleeting. A majority of their time is not spent at home, and regardless of the decor, the signs are obvious before even stepping inside. At the very least, Carisi has a good couch, burgundy in color, which included a teal pillow with tiny pineapples on it and the phrase “home sweet home” in the middle. It was disgustingly cheesy, but Rafael couldn’t complain if Carisi sat right in front of it. Like now for instance, when he plops down and tugs the shorter man into his lap.

“I like these pants,” Rafael warns as he gently removes his shoes. “I don’t want to make a mess in them like you did.”

“You’re seriously gonna hold that over me?” Carisi pouts, but judging from the way his hands unravel his tie, he isn’t very offended. “How much do you like the shirt?”

Rafael glares at him, sliding his suspenders off his shoulders slowly in case he tries anything. “A great deal. Don’t rip it off. You can wait a few more seconds.”

“Tell that to my corpse when I die from boredom.” Carisi had already discarded his work clothes, remaining in only an undershirt and pants. If it wasn’t endearing how much he wanted to start their weekend of debauchery, he would have been disappointed at the lost opportunity to undress his bed partner.

“I’ll be sure to.” All that remains is his pants, suspenders bumping against his hips as he drops his shirt behind him. He leans forward to whisper, just enough that he can hear it but can only feel a wisp of air on his skin. “Counselor.”

Carisi dives forward hungrily, their teeth clacking together as their lips collide. Rafael can taste the remnants of coffee and a sugary pastry. Probably a zeppole, knowing his habits. He eats up a soft groan from Carisi when Rafael presses a hand to his cheek and scratches right under his jaw, taking only a moment to relish in the insistent hips in front of him. The teasing is fun, for the moment, when both of them are too impatient to properly acknowledge their arousal and simply want to take what stands in front of them for easy access.

“You’re like a puppy.” Rafael shares the observation between them, smiling softly against his mouth.

“Shh.” Carisi captures his lips, not even opening his eyes in the brief second they were separated. He makes quick work of licking anything within reach, and his hands freely roam up Rafael’s sides and to his jaw. Rafael clenches his legs against Carisi’s knees to keep himself from falling. The small waver of balance in his stance brings their sloppy kissing down to slow and open gasps, their lips tracing wet paths along each other’s skin. When Carisi sucks on his lower lip, he responds in kind by running a hand up his back and grabbing at his hairline. Rafael enjoys the slow moments for what they are supposed to be: a few seconds to regain steady breathing, spare seconds of reminders that this is nothing intimate, a drain of any inkling of romance that could have bloomed between them.

They should add that to the rules. No falling in love. They might not have initially needed it to be said, but maybe things were changing.

“How do you want me?” Rafael asks quietly. At the question, Sonny—Carisi resumes his sloppy kisses, tracing up his jawline carefully. His teeth don’t nip like they usually do, possibly a sign of his impatience, but by the way his tongue is licking up his neck and his hand is running through his hair, there is no hesitation in his actions. He wants this now.

“Like this,” Carisi whispers, and god, if Rafael wasn’t already attracted to him, he certainly is now. His voice is dry, having transferred most of his spit to Rafael’s skin, making his words sound husky and worn. The tent in his pants is definitely uncomfortable, judging by his numerous attempts to spread his legs and ease up on some of the pressure. His hips keep on taking small hops upwards, chafing against Rafael just enough to be aware of but not enough to gain pleasure from. And when Rafael stands and starts to remove his belt, he wraps his arms around his thighs and squeezes him close, just enough so that his erection brushes against his cheek.

“Seriously?” Rafael finally gets a firm hand on the buckle and slides his belt off, discarding it behind him. Carisi nearly leans forward again, another attempt to rub his face against his crotch, but Rafael ducks away before he can. “You could take your pants off too, to help this move quicker.”

Carisi thinks on it for a while, his tongue swiping against his lips and his eyes following Rafael’s hands, but he doesn’t shimmy out of his clothes until Rafael kicks his aside. And he slides the offending pants off only to tangle his legs in the process, kicking them wildly in the air to free himself.

“Jesus, Carisi—” Rafael grabs his calves and pulls his pants the rest of the way off. What a mess; Carisi almost looks embarrassed, but Rafael returning to a perch in his lap erases any evidence of it.

“I got impatient.” Carisi kisses his collarbone as an apology. The tips of his hair floating above his forehead, slipping from the gel that kept it in place all day, ghost against his chin.

“You can’t fuck me through a pair of pants. That would be inefficient and uncomfortable.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Do you not remember what I said about the pants?”

“That they’re dumb.” Carisi smiles as he plants another kiss on his neck. “In the way.” Another peck lands on his chin. “Obstructing justice.”

Rafael scoffs at the last one and raises Carisi’s face up to kiss him. Part of him wants to stop his list and effectively silence him, but another part, the one that is slowly turning hazy with lust, would prefer to squeeze as much desire as he can from the other man. Priorities.

With Rafael in his lap again, Carisi pulls him close by wrapping one arm around his waist. Rafael notices a slight twinge in his lower back—not bad, just…interesting—but he ignores it for the time being, more occupied with the mouth in front of him. The kiss is nowhere near neat, possibly bruising their lips and definitely sloppy if the sounds are anything to go by. Rafael holds Carisi’s face in his hands; if he weren’t so desperate for his cock to get inside him, he would be embarrassed at how intimate and private it felt.

Carisi shuffles in place for a moment and, with a tightened hold on the arm wrapped around Rafael, he dips forward and pulls out a condom and a thin tube from his pants pocket. Rafael bites back a surprised sound and tightens around Carisi’s body like a koala, his legs swinging forward to clamp down on his hips and his hands scrambling on his back and neck.

“You could have warned me,” Rafael points out coldly, jutting his hips forward to scrape their erections together as payback. Carisi groans past a bitten lip and fumbles to open the lube. “What type of 1930s dance move were you trying to pull?”

“A jazz one,” Carisi mumbles, finally getting the cap off the tube and squirting a generous amount on two fingers. “What, you weren’t impressed?”

“It could use some work, but it has potential if you use those ridiculously long limbs to your advantage.”

Carisi laughs—he has to be showing off at this point, those dimples don’t just come out and shine like that—as he warms up the slick on his fingers. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

The fingers brush against his entrance gently, tracing over the spot to get him used to the pressure. They’ve done this plenty of times before, with both of them swapping positions, but the consideration that Carisi takes to ensure he’s comfortable is touching. Besides, he can allow himself to believe, in a state as thirsty for sexual contact as he is, that the first finger that slips inside him is much less obtrusive because of that bit of extra care. Rafael, waiting for the initial twinges of pressure to ease up from his ass, lets out a heavy breath. “So you’re not just after my legal advice.”

“It’s a packaged deal.” Carisi kisses his shoulder before he gently bites it, not to break the skin, just enough to distract him from the stretching behind him. His finger moves casually inside Rafael and against his inner walls. As if he wasn’t holding a regular conversation with him. “You’d give it to me regardless.”

“Fair point.” Rafael circles his hips once, internally thanking Carisi for keeping his hand still, and gently shifts his position. His knees might have some ache to them later, but he could handle it if it meant they could fuck quicker. “Do you know how to dance? Or do you fit the stereotype of a tall, graceless giraffe who just learned how to use its legs?”

Carisi goes as far as he can inside, and when he pulls back out, he adds two fingers. He waits for Rafael to familiarize himself—how kind, he muses to himself—with a few huffs and a grunt when the fingers spread. Rafael gives a small thrust of his hips, an unspoken request to answer. “I know how to move my feet when there’s music playing, if that’s what you’re asking. But I don’t know any real dances.”

“Hmm.” Rafael focuses on the fingers spreading him and not on the intrusive thought of teaching Sonny—teaching _Carisi_ how to dance, maybe a basic waltz or foxtrot. If he’s daring, he would show him how to mambo or even rumba, spinning around each other with swaying hips and quick feet only to come back together. Or, god forbid, he introduces Carisi to danzon—their bodies pressed together, faces nearly touching cheek to cheek, feeling every inhale and every breath and even the shift of their feet—

“What, you already thinking about what to show me?”

Rafael smiles at the kidding tone Carisi uses, hoping to keep down his true reaction to the tease. “You might be a lost cause.” The fingers help bring him back and solidify him in reality, twisting against him and tracing on his walls as they slide in and out. They stick together as they exit, but they spread apart as they enter, taking part in their own dance.

“Well, I should be fine for now. I’ve been to enough family events and haven’t stuck out yet.”

“Your sisters would get jealous if you suddenly showed them up.” Rafael shudders at the casual press against his prostate and the steaming laugh against his ear. He blames the ticklish breath for making him openly groan before he can stop it from coming out. “Fuck, Carisi.” The fingers push forward again, and Rafael pushes against his body, one hand grappling against Carisi’s bare back and the other tightening in his hair. He nearly misses the soft whine that melts into a sigh.

“Just one more.” Carisi nuzzles into his neck and breathes in, kissing whatever inch of skin he hasn’t reached yet. His accent always gets thicker with his arousal, and the words he whispers into the shell of his ear are no exception. “You feel amazin’.”

“Don’t start,” Rafael chuckles breathlessly, already recognizing the tendrils of heat coiling in his chest. “You’ll end both of us before we’ve even started.”

“I don’t mind.” The fingers ease out, and they reemerge softly, not separating until they nudge against his prostate. Rafael bends forward, pushing Carisi further into him, and pants, each press on the nerves sending more fire raging down his spine. He wants this to last, wants to feel Carisi thrust inside and hear him sigh from the walls around his prick. So he clamps his legs shut and presses their foreheads together, trying not to make eye contact with the man below him. “I’d offer to teach you something, but Italians aren’t known for their dances.”

“There’s the—” Rafael pauses for a moment, steadying his breathing with a rough swallow, “the tarantella. You don’t count that?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess, but generally, our culture was expanding in other things. Y’know, like painting, cooking, building.”

Listing off different contributions to a remarkable culture shouldn’t be attractive. And somehow, Carisi makes it alluring, his eyes drifting to some space over Rafael’s shoulder, biting his lower lip when he trails off in thought. Maybe it’s the fingers spreading him open or the heavy arousal of his cock, or the anticipation of what is to come. List-making isn’t just sexy by nature. “Are you saying Italians were too busy creating one of the most successful and largest cultural shifts in history to focus on dancing?”

Carisi snorts. “Well, when you put it like that, we just sound snobby.”

“At least mention some musicians. Vivaldi, Verdi, Puccini.”

“Never heard of them.”

Rafael clenches on his fingers in retaliation and smirks as his hand bucks against his entrance. “You should do more research on your heritage.”

“Oh yeah?” Carisi finally removes his hands. The circle he gives to his asshole is an unasked question to see if he is ready, to which Rafael nods. He leans over and reaches for the condom on the cushion beside them. “Like what?”

Rafael thinks about offering to forgo the condom—it’s an extra step before sex, and they’re both clean, with no other partners to share—but seeing Carisi open the packet with one hand is a more enticing sight. And watching him struggle to slip it on with one hand, his fingers circled around it to hover it over his erection, while the other keeps Rafael firmly on his lap is even more amusing than he could have ever imagined. “da Vinci was allegedly into men.”

Carisi drops the condom in his one-handed fumble to put it on. Getting it out of the foil was easy, but getting it on himself is apparently harder. “Oh really? What kind of shit does a possibly gay Renaissance man get into?”

“Charged with sodomy. Had a supposed affair with his apprentice, who is thought to have been the model for Mona Lisa’s smirk. He openly wrote about how unnerving sex was.” He shrugs half-heartedly, like the facts were something he heard every day. “Just your typical Renaissance.”

“He fucked his apprentice? What type of age gap is that?”

“Carisi, neither of us are allowed to judge age gaps.” Nine, almost ten, years might not have been as bad as others, but it was still a difference. “Do you need help?”

Carisi had been struggling to slide the condom on with one hand but had yet to succeed. He huffs at the offer and fails once more to get it on. His index and middle fingers keep on spreading apart each time he tries to roll it further down. “Don’t say a word.”

“I wasn’t going to comment on your fruitless attempts to put on a condom with one hand. But since you brought it up, I will be referring to this moment for the next nine months.”

“Thank you, Rafael, you’re very helpful.” Carisi shifts the hand still gripping his hips. “Will you be okay if I move my hand to put it on?”

Rafael sighs mockingly but squeezes his legs against Carisi’s thighs, effectively keeping him in place and ensuring he wouldn’t fall unless he relaxed his legs. “And here I was hoping for a little show.”

“Not tonight, jackass.” With both hands free to tug on the rubber effectively, Carisi squirts a bit more lube onto his fingers and thoroughly slicks up his cock. “I’d like to see you do it.”

“I have.” Rafael lets his legs relax when Carisi, wiping his hand on his thigh, returns a hand to his hips and fixes him with a doubting glance. “I can.” He raises himself up and lets the base of his scrotum brush against Carisi’s head. He sighs at the friction, cock twitching, and then the head is sitting underneath his entrance, inches away from plummeting inside, held in place by the hand previously slicking his cock. Rafael makes one glance—a simple, quick one, barely noticeable—at Carisi’s face, at the eyes struggling to stay away from his, before he fills himself. “And I will.”

The only sound heard when Rafael finally slides onto Sonny’s cock is their breaths, open and soft and hot. Rafael can feel each inch move deeper inside, gradually puncturing him and nuzzling against his walls. He tries not to clench and instead focuses on his cock between them, untouched and dripping. His legs shake beside Carisi’s, pale and gangly compared to Rafael’s firm form and olive tone.

“Fuck,” Carisi whispers between them. He lets a goofy smile loose and chuckles. “It’s been a while since we’ve been here.”

“Not exactly,” Rafael huffs. The pressure still needs some getting used to, if only from how searing and blazing it heats his flesh. It brings him back to his college years, spending casual nights in with the men he dated, going through rounds of condom and bottles of lubricant and sweat-stained skin. His younger self could get so hungry for sex, he wouldn’t mind running through a box of condoms the same day he bought them. He knows Carisi doesn’t mind the small break; it just means more time engulfed inside him and memorizing every twitch of muscle that he makes. “I can remember three different times in the past four months.”

Carisi grumbles into his shoulder. “Of course you do. I bet you have affidavits for them too.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Rafael gives his hips an experimental shift. Carisi wraps his arms tighter around him, his left hand pulling him close by pressing his palm into his lower back. He bites and laps at his pulse right when Rafael fails to bite back a long guttural moan from a place deep inside him. The hand against his back is unyielding in pressure, which only accents its presence further and keeps the jolts of electricity running through his veins.

He nearly says his real name. Carisi’s nickname, technically, but the semantics of it are meaningless when that hand from that body is applying so much pressure to his lower back that he wonders if an inferno is raging on inside him.

“Carisi,” he gasps out. The younger man moves back to look at him, and his hands shift against him. Rafael chokes out a groan in his attempt to swallow it when Carisi’s hand moves just a tiny bit across his skin. The sound tumbles past his lips, dirtying the air between them. He reaches back and grabs Carisi’s wrist to shove it further, to move his palm flatter against him. Their bodies only make more contact, chests touching, Rafael slightly elevated from their positions and clearly without anywhere to go. His legs are fine, he can extract himself when he wants, but the hand holding him in place makes him never want to leave. And that thought is terrifying.

Suddenly nothing feels right. It isn’t possession keeping him in place, or Carisi’s selfish desire to trap him around lanky arms and never move him again. The hand on his back, at the bottom of his spine and the start of his tailbone, touches a part of his body that has rarely received contact. Rafael wasn’t someone who thrived on physical contact like Carisi was. He knew the spots he liked to have kissed or touched the most and that was all he needed. He had meant it when he said he didn’t care about finding or having erogenous zones.

And yet if there was ever a time to identify one, this was it. Rafael tries to explain the feelings he’s experiencing, to find some way to rationalize the sensation outside of that limitation, to figure out a reason why his lower back flares with pleasure and demands more. But the words don’t come to him. It’s an exhilaration, to have Carisi’s touch nuzzled right above his ass, currently stretched and sitting in his lap. And the implications of a deeper meaning to it, that the moments they share and the touches they make are more than the surface entails…

Rafael shakes his head to clear his thoughts, and he opens his mouth, but no words come out. Carisi looks confused—his goddamn head is tilted to the side—but he says nothing. The muscles under the soft skin of Rafael’s lower back twitch with anticipation, poked with goosebumps and tingling for a continuation.

Carisi takes his hand away and moves like he’s about to pull out. Rafael reaches behind himself again and clasps down. His fingers squeeze tight. “Don’t.”

A warning. A demand to return and not question it. A fear that something has gone wrong and he doesn’t want to continue any longer.

“Do you want to stop?”

Carisi blinks at the question. Almost like he didn’t expect to be asked. “No,” he answers. His hand slides back into place against his lower back, and Rafael throws his head back at the sensitive spot, a shuddering inhale slipping out. He doesn’t have to look to see the shock on Carisi’s face, the wide blue eyes with blown-out pupils or the anxious lick of his lips while he thinks of his next move. He can hear it in his voice. “Are you okay? Do y’wanna slow down or—”

Rafael raises his hips, still keeping hold of Carisi’s wrist, and when he slides back down into his lap, he lets out a small yell. Carisi grunts and grabs his right hip, either to steady him or to lend a hand. As long as his other hand stays on his back, pressing against his skin and scratching at every clench, he can do anything. Throw him on the coffee table and break it with the force. Bend him over and thrust into him, pushing onto his back to not only feel every plunge he makes inside but to limit his movements so that the only thing he can do is take it.

They move in near unison. Rafael rides him to the rhythm of their thighs slapping together each time he drops down. Sonny meets his thrusts down so that every time he eases off, the head remains and tortures the rim of his entrance. And then Rafael plummets, and he is filled impossibly full, and the hand on his back feeds the fire in his chest. It barely falters when he raises up, and if it does, Sonny just drags his nails down and digs in. Just enough to satisfy and keep him from protesting.

“Fuck, S—” Rafael bites back his error, blaming the drop back onto Sonny’s cock for messing him up, and tries again. “Carisi.”

“I can go faster,” Sonny heaves into his neck, “but I’d have to use both hands.”

Rafael growls in warning, another unexpected sound from within him, and leans forward to bite his neck. He would rather have a slow pace with rough thrusts than a faster one with hips that mimicked staccato notes.

“W-wait, hold on.” Sonny sits back to eye Rafael up and down. He must look a mess: hair sweaty, eyes glazed from pleasure, impatience and desperation bleeding through a facade that once never revealed such a vulnerable emotion. His cock hangs between them, most likely an angry red judging by the throbs that plead with him to continue moving.

And then Sonny is tightening his arms back around him and clutches onto him. His left hand takes over at his lower back—interesting, there’s a slight difference in feeling between his palms—or maybe he’s just overthinking—and he shifts forward so that Rafael is encircled in his arms, leaning back just enough for Sonny’s cock to take position in front of his prostate.

“I have an idea,” Sonny pants. He pauses to catch his breath and lick his lips, his pupils shrunk just a bit. If it weren’t for the halted movements, Rafael might not have paid enough attention to hear him. His mind already took the plunge into hazy lust and euphoric desire. And when Sonny looks up at him, blue irises shoved away again, how could he keep focus? “And it’s a little risky, ‘cause you might fall. But I think it’ll be worth it.”

Rafael doesn’t comment, partly because he trusts him enough to do something extraordinary, but partly from the cock that bottoms out and barrels back in with a new thrust. And when Sonny’s hand digs into his back, his nerves sing in ecstasy. The most he can let out is a gasp at the resumed thrusts. His thoughts are jumbled words, sprawled around in his mind and blending together into mush. Sonny is lifting—bouncing—him as if he does it every day, and he shivers with every push into him. His prostate is struck directly and precisely; Sonny probably memorized where it is. It’s the only explanation for how he hits it just right and knows when to skirt around it, connecting with it just enough to please but not enough to satisfy.

“Don’t make me beg,” Rafael threatens, his voice hoarse and worn and far from menacing. He debates whether it would be a good idea to squeeze around him or if it would end Sonny early.

Sonny just smiles and laughs breathlessly. He slows down just a touch to catch his breath and adjust his grip, but he resumes like nothing has changed. Rafael shudders when he stops skirting around and hits the nerve bundle directly. For all his efforts to stop the rising heat from boiling over, he only makes Sonny speed up. He clenches his entrance and his legs, but the added pressure is pleasant for his companion, judging by the way he thrashes forward and wantonly moans.

“Barba,” he whispers between them. A coy smile is already flickering up his lips. “Almost said your real name.”

“Wouldn’t mind,” Rafael breathes out. It’s a miracle his mouth can wrap around the words to articulate sound.

“Not a natural rule breaker. That’s why,” he hitches forward and stops for a brief second to tease out his next thrust, “you ask,” his hips slam against his ass, “and I deliver.”

Rafael comes with a yell, giving in to the coils of heat that trap his mind and cover his eyes in a dazed mist of graying hair and indented cheeks. He might have cursed himself for ending this first round if he wasn’t so surprised by a single thought. The driving force of this session, besides their mutual physical attraction for one another, is the hand pressed against his back for pleasure and safety.

He realizes he is back on the couch when Sonny plops back against the cushions and breathes out. Judging by the lack of a condom and the softness of his dick, Sonny—Carisi had finished as well. Rafael can see the small hint of hazy lust in his eyes, but it’s all but sated for now. There’s something else that has him quiet. Usually, after orgasms like that, Sonny had little quips to share or praises to sing. Tonight, he gawks at the ceiling while he wrestles his breathing down and runs a hand through his hair. The weakened gel lets a few strands drop, including two curls that flop over his forehead.

“So, uh. Your erogenous zone.”

Rafael uses what energy he has regained to grab a throw pillow and plop it over his face. Those were the last words he wanted to hear. It was all circumstantial, he tries to tell himself. The alleged area of sexual arousal that had caused Rafael to sound like a feral animal during heat sounds too unlike him. He even threatened to _beg_ if his demands weren’t met. God, what was he turning into?

“Uh, Barba?” Carisi’s hand drops on his shoulder lightly. “Everything okay?”

“If I stay here long enough,” he huffs, “I can suffocate by midnight.”

“What—no, hey!” Carisi rips the pillow away and stares at him. Direct eye contact: it’s not during sex, so the integrity of the rules is still sacred. But if the drying semen on his chest and throbbing ass have anything to say about it, it may as well be a violation. The rules are very important, after all, and Carisi just said he wasn’t a natural rule-breaker.

Rafael holds up a finger to stop him from spilling whatever retort he was seconds from spilling. “Before you start, let me say ‘no’ for you. I’m not discussing what happened, I’m not doing it again, and I swear to Christ, Dominick, if you even think about it, I will shove my foot so far up your ass, you’ll be sent back to the mother country.”

Carisi frowns and huffs but just sits back with a grunt. “Didn’t have to use my real name for that.”

“Do you still want _fritas_?” Food was a marvelous distraction, and Carisi never missed the opportunity to eat. And if he wasn’t going to get an answer on a question he hadn’t been able to ask, then Rafael hopes he has enough sense to take the loss and at least eat with him.

Carisi doesn’t answer verbally, but the look in his eyes tells him all he needs to know. Rafael pushes himself off the couch, grabs his underwear and shirt, buttoning it halfway, and makes a beeline for the kitchen. Without glancing back, he asks over his shoulder, “anything on the sides?”

“No thanks. Just the _frita_ , please.”

Usually, Carisi requests pickles, or chips, or something snack-related to compliment his food. Maybe he just wants to get to the main event. Whether that’s the food or the conversation on what happened, Rafael isn’t sure, he doesn’t want to find out, and he refuses to delve any deeper into the thought while he has a hungry guest.

“I’ll get right on it.”

 

* * *

 

Carisi skirts a few shoestring potatoes around his plate to catch the homemade spicy ketchup that had dropped off his  _frita_. Rafael had left a jar of pickles and a bag of potato chips out just in case. “Is it good?” He asks the detective. All he gets in response is a nod and hum for confirmation. “Good. I’m glad.” Rafael offers a small smile to hopefully push the conversation onwards. “I know I’ve been bragging about it recently, but hopefully, it met your expectations.”

“Don’t worry, it has,” Carisi says with a grin. “You were right about the patties, by the way. Your friends at the deli have a special talent.”

“When have I ever done you wrong?”

Carisi doesn’t answer; the expression on his face is enough proof that he doubts his claim. Rafael knows immediately what it is, and he hates it. If Carisi hadn’t brought it up in the first place two weeks ago, they never would have been here. It would have been taken for what it was: just some casual, usual, intimate touching befitting the mood. Nothing new and nothing more.

“Carisi—”

“I don’t—”

They speak at the same time, and Carisi chuckles softly while Rafael quickly looks away from him. Damn that sound. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “You go first.”

“No, I don’t mind,” Carisi leans back in his chair and waves between them. “You go.”

“Carisi, I want to hear what you have to say.” If it was anyone else, he might not have hesitated as much. But this is Carisi, someone he has seen in multiple states of undress and shared those moments in a similar state, who has made himself at home with Mets mugs and pickle jars, who knows things he won’t admit to even as they’re sprawled across his face. “It’s probably more important than what I was going to say.”

Carisi snorts. “If you really insist, maybe I should go first.” Rafael just smiles grimly in response and waits while Carisi finishes up the last remains of shoestring potatoes and leans back. “I was gonna say that I don’t want to push you to tell me anything. I can tell you were uncomfortable and that was the last thing I wanted to do, so…” He rolls his shoulders and stifles a burp in the crook of his elbow. “I’m not gonna push it. We don’t have to talk about it, and I’m not gonna mention it again.”

“And what if I wanted to talk about it?” Rafael counters.

“Is that what you want?”

Rafael shrugs, gathering their plates and drinks. “Refill?” Carisi shakes his head, and Rafael stands to deposit the remains of dinner in the sink and trash. “I haven’t had much time to think about it, because it’s something I can’t remember experiencing.” The bottle of scotch that Carisi only has for him sits on the counter, and he brings it back to the small round table, pouring himself a finger of scotch. “But, maybe, by sharing it, I can work it out.”

“That’s something new,” Carisi points out. His lips twitch in a borderline smirk. “Am I getting to your head or something?”

“Don’t push it. If you’re okay with me sharing, just let me say my piece.”

Carisi mimics sealing his lips and holds his hands up. “All ears.”

Rafael thinks about deflecting, mentioning that supposedly sealing his lips meant he shouldn’t speak, but he decides not to. The faster he can get over it, the faster they can resume their night. “It sounded irrational for me to believe that one spot of my body can experience more pleasure during sex than others. And I’m not talking about genitals, since they don’t necessarily count. I don’t see why it would make a difference.”

“I get it,” Carisi says. “It doesn’t sound like a big deal.”

“But I know you believe in it.”

“Well, I believe that some parts of the body are more sensitive than others. Like how my knees are more ticklish than yours.”

“How dare you bring that up. I already apologized for that.”

Carisi laughs at the memory. It wasn’t necessarily a bad moment: a bit too much to drink in his office, after hours, laid out on the couch with their legs spread out and Rafael’s hand brushing under Carisi’s knee and nearly knocking him out. He hadn’t meant it, but the giggles they had both let out and the amount they had consumed changed things from innocent jabs to a fierce competition, including a skirt of Carisi’s fingers underneath his arm that made him scream. “I’m not trying to get back at you, I’m just saying. It’s in the same wheelhouse, y’know? Our bodies all work differently.”

“Sure, but when you’re having sex, how much are you actually ticklish? If I touched your knees when we were having sex, would you have a reaction?”

Carisi’s eyebrows shoot up. Rafael bites the inside of his cheek for giving him the idea. Although if the conversation is about to lead away from erogenous zones, or lack thereof, who was he to stop it? Perhaps this was more of a good thing than a bad one. There would be time to assure Carisi later in the night, while sharing a post-orgasm nightcap, that even if he didn’t believe in the idea of erogenous zones, he wasn’t against having his back touched during sex. It still felt good to him, even if he refused to call it an erogenous zone. But that was for later.

With a swallow and a shift in his chair, Carisi leans forward on his elbows, sharp blue eyes already asking the question before it leaves his mouth. “What _if_ you touched my knees during sex?”

“Or,” Rafael begins slowly, “what if _you_ touched the space under my arm?”

Their conversation is benched for another time. For now, all he has to focus on is undressing whatever clothes they had thrown back on and let Carisi lead him to the bedroom. All he wants to think about is Carisi’s hand around their cocks, his other hand running over the skin under his arm, and his own hands keeping Carisi’s legs raised while they rub against one another and find their answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was having a little bit of trouble getting this down, mostly the part where Sonny finds Rafael's erogenous zone, so I hope you enjoy it! The next time I update this story, I promise, it's going to be the last part :^)
> 
> Also Leonardo da Vinci is an alleged gay; he was super private so not a lot is known about his personal life but from what has been concluded, there are some clues that he was Not Straight


	3. Eye Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We don’t have to do our usual routine.” Talk, have sex, nap off some exhaustion, repeat. With water breaks for rehydration, of course.
> 
> “I know.”
> 
> They sit for a second in silence, and then Carisi is pressing closer against him, a bit too intimate for the night they were trying to have. Rafael turns to him cautiously. “Are you sure?”
> 
> “Yeah, why not?” He offers with a smile. “Consider it an apology for breaking the rules.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is over 13k words.
> 
> Would you believe me if I said I didn't mean to make this chapter twice as long as the other two chapters? Because I wouldn't believe me either  
> And if you thought the second chapter was filthy lmaoooo don't even get me started
> 
> I have a few more stories planned for this AU, including a Meet the Family fic, a disclosure one featuring everyone's mom lieutenant, and a few others, but for right now, I have another Married Barisi fic coming out soon and a Totally Not a Stardew Valley AU But Is Actually a Stardew Valley AU that will feature some major worldbuilding and ~angst~ hell yeah. I'm just really surrounded by Barisi right now and I cannot be freed bury me in season seventeen  
> For now, I hope you enjoy this chapter and the story as a whole! This was so much fun to write and this is not the last you will hear from these weenie boys ;)
> 
> CAUTION WARNING for some mentioned violence at the beginning; the rest is just pure smut (check the tags for specifics)

A week later, Rafael sits Carisi down at the island counters in his kitchen. Technically, they were breaking one of the rules they had established—no first names, no consecutive weekends, no eye contact—but they both agreed that after the week they had, it was needed.

Firstly, they had to deal with a serial rapist who had been released early and immediately went back to stalking and assaulting. It took two days to track him down, and any elected official in Manhattan was breathing down their necks to find him. Even though they had allowed the release with the concern that his future and potential would be ruined, not thinking about the survivors of his attacks and their futures, but Rafael didn’t comment that to their faces. It wasn’t a tough case, especially once they found the perp holed up in an abandoned lot, and the plea deal only took a minute to make. But it had dragged down on everyone’s shoulders.

Then, as if to make matters worse, the case SVU had picked up in the meantime sent the squad on a wild goose chase around Central Park. They had managed to get their suspect out of the park, but Carisi had nearly been run down by a cab in the pursuit. And, as if an unjustifiably angry cabbie wasn’t enough, the suspect hadn’t matched the DNA they had on file from the case. He was just a guilty ex who blamed himself for something he didn’t do. And they weren’t any closer to solving that case.

Rafael would have assisted them, or at least check in to offer assistance, if he hadn’t been busy getting threatened in arraignment by a power-hungry sex offender. Thankfully, the judge revoked his bond and remanded him, avoiding a repeat of familiar events on the courthouse steps from a couple years back. But the memory of similar threats declared on his life, regardless of who was behind them, was still unpleasant.

It was Carisi who reached out. It was Rafael who invited him over.

“Sorry about arraignment,” Carisi offers while Rafael pours them both generous amounts of scotch. Rafael knew it wasn’t Carisi’s preferred alcoholic beverage, but he had asked for something strong when he came in. And strong he would get.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Rafael points out. He slides one of the glasses across the counter, which Carisi takes with a thankful nod. “You were a bit busy playing in traffic.”

Carisi shrugs, taking a sip of scotch and shuddering at the strong taste. “Still feel bad about it. No one’s had a break this week. Fin and Amanda didn’t even make fun of me for almost getting run down.”

“Probably because it wasn’t funny. The smartass baited you into traffic and made sure you and the driver were unaware of the risk. You could have gotten injured.” Or killed, he wants to add, but he decides against it at the last second. Better to not rub salt into the open wound.

“I’ve had worse.” Carisi pauses when Rafael sits down beside him. “Especially undercover. And you like to point out my, what’d you call them, ‘giraffe legs’ and how I never learned how to walk.”

Rafael shrugs and takes a sip of scotch. “I say that to tease you, not to harm you. In fact, I would argue that the worse I’ve done for you was help you study for the bar.” Carisi laughs quietly at that and nudges him playfully for the remark. “A detective  _ and _ a lawyer? That’s a dangerous combination.”

“Yeah, well,” he swirls the liquid in the glass, and the way he stares at it suggests that there’s more on his mind than he lets on, “at least now I have two unsafe employment options.” Rafael doesn’t respond; he can take a wild guess to know what he’s referencing. “Since people can threaten you in court like they do it every day.”

“I hardly take ‘peacock-dressing cocksucker’ as a threat—or an insult, for that matter.”

“Sure, if it’s not paired with ‘I’ll fill you with so much lead, you’ll have a closed casket at your funeral.’ Or ‘cigar-smoking job stealer.’”

“That last one wasn’t even good. I hate the smell of cigars and there aren’t many jobs for Harvard alums to steal.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“Am I?” Rafael stares him down, almost daring him to continue on with the conversation. There wasn’t a lot either of them could do, and as much as he loves bantering back and forth with Carisi, it would be easier to just get to what they planned on doing. That’s why they were planning this consecutive weekend and breaking the rules in the first place: to spend time together, preferably nude, and to forget reality for a good few hours.

Carisi meets his gaze with an equal amount of strength—relentless, firm, steady in the argument he was making—but he softens and slides a hand across the counter. Rafael takes it without hesitation and squeezes. The affection shared between them is acceptable for now; after the week they had, there isn’t much concern for maintaining an aloof front. And now that they’re alone, Rafael doesn’t see how they could hide it with straight faces. (Not just because there was little straight about their weekend acts, but once one sees a semi-close-friend-with-some-benefits naked for as much as they have, there’s little they can hide.)

“You can’t blame me for being worried,” Carisi whispers.

“Neither can you,” Rafael jabs back, though without the bite he might have used in any other situation.

“Looks like we’re at a standstill then.”

“Looks like it. What should we do?”

Carisi takes a glance at the half-empty drink, downs the rest, and rolls his shoulder. “We can snuggle.”

Rafael refuses to hold back a laugh, shaking his head and running his thumb along the top of Carisi’s hand. How romantic. “Snuggle, drink some bourbon, forget our problems.”

The only thing Carisi has to do is smile and flash those dimples at him to give an answer. And that’s exactly what he does, standing and holding out a hand for Rafael to take, ever the gentleman. They stay on the couch while they finish up their drinks, pressed into each other’s sides and simply enjoying the steady conversation, the heat of his side and the even breathing. Rafael imagines it’s more for confirmation of each other’s safety, even though he doubts Carisi shares the sentiment. Their cuddle session is still pleasant: Carisi drapes the afghan on the couch over both their laps, Rafael’s cat makes an appearance from whichever hiding spot she’s decided to use tonight, and their conversation, for once, does not revolve around work. To an unknowing eye, it would probably look like they were enjoying a simple date night.

“I don’t know, I can understand Gina’s point of view,” Rafael muses softly during the latest date night debacle featuring Carisi’s sister. “She isn’t doing anything terrible.”

“See, that’s what I tried to tell my parents,” Carisi sighs. “But they think she’s picking on men when she dates them.”

Rafael shakes his head. “A woman dating men who put themselves above everyone else and then fall for her charms? When there are people who do much worse? Yes, how menacing.”

Carisi raises his hands in the air. “I mean, I would argue she has no charm, but that’s a brother’s bias. Either way, they’re only ever idiots posing as macho guys with a shit ton of toxic masculinity and overcompensating egos.”

“If anything, she’s weeding out the dumbasses and trying to pick out the good ones.”

“Exactly!” Carisi throws his arms in the air, nearly knocking the glasses out of both their hands. “Also, she’s a grown woman living on her own and supporting herself. We don’t have any say in what she does. And unless she’s murdering them, which, I mean, I could see her doing—”

“Talk about a brother’s bias,” Rafael teases, receiving a scoff and an eyeroll for the comment.

“—but she wouldn’t ever do, then what’s the harm?”

“I feel for her.” Rafael places his near-empty glass on the coffee table. If he shifts further into Carisi when he leans back, it is nothing more than an accident. “Men are just brainless lumps of clay who breathe sometimes.” Carisi chuckles in his ear, his breath tingling the back of his hair. “Was there anything else you had in mind tonight?”

Carisi downs the rest of his scotch. “Like what?”

“Well, we’re breaking the rules a bit.”

He hums softly, immediately looking away. “We are. Within reason.”

“Within reason.” He blurts it out for reassurance. “It was a tough week. We need some relief.”

“I mean, I’m down for anything,” Carisi states. The arm that has been draped over Rafael’s shoulder since they sat on the couch is propped up on his elbow, fingers toying with dark strands. “I didn’t really have a plan.”

“We don’t have to do our usual routine.” Talk, have sex, nap off some exhaustion, repeat. With water breaks for rehydration, of course.

“I know.”

They sit for a second in silence, and then Carisi is pressing closer against him, a bit too intimate for the night they were trying to have. Rafael turns to him cautiously. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, why not?” He offers with a smile. “Consider it an apology for breaking the rules.”

Rafael wants to say he’s glad Carisi called him, glad he came over, because he knew he wouldn’t have been able to. If Carisi hadn’t called, he would have just shoved himself into work or alcohol or both and pretend the threats had never happened. At least now, he can pretend with some company to help shift his mind onto better things. Like the fact that Carisi’s legs are very long, or the gray hairs clustered at his temple are very flattering and only add to his overall attractiveness. Or even how comfortable he makes himself on Rafael’s couch, an indication of how many times he’s been here and familiarized himself with his apartment.

Actually, if his mind was going to make those types of assumptions and craft that type of trouble, it might have been better if they hadn’t met up in the first place. Because there is only one thing that Rafael wants from Carisi—or, technically and more accurately, one place he wants attention. It’s shameful, it’s embarrassing, and Rafael scolds himself for falling into the urge so easily. He should have known that this would happen.

“I…”

Rafael stops himself from finishing and tries again. There’s absolutely no way he can complete that sentence. No way.

“If you want…you could massage my back.”

Well. Unlike Carisi, he never was good at following rules. Or listening to helpful advice, for that matter, even if that advice was from himself.

Carisi looks at him. Rafael stares ahead, glaring at the glass on the coffee table and willing it to shatter so he can distract them from what just slipped out of his mouth. His cheeks are flaming hot, perhaps the only indication—physically—that he said something embarrassing. Internally, his mind is scrambling for a better request, to play it off as nothing, or maybe to pretend it never happened by leaving his apartment and walking into traffic. Something that would avoid him having to answer for the questions burning at Carisi’s tongue.

“You…want a massage? On your back?”

Rafael stays quiet. Carisi moves to kneel in front of him and grips his knees softly. The look he shares with him is nothing short of patient. He hopes he never gets used to the genuine kindness for as long as their fling lasts. And yet the fact that his heart is thrumming with damn affection for that face and those words and the thought of losing himself to everything Carisi has to offer is overwhelming. The utter trust he holds for the man sitting between his knees, the lack of hesitation to share what’s on his mind and touch on his largest fear, Rafael cannot remember feeling for another. He’s glad that the person making him react like this is Carisi, if only because he won’t force or demand him to give him answers with incredible patience.

“Rafael,” Carisi starts softly, “do you want some space?”

“No, it’s fine,” Rafael assures him with a hand on his upper arm and a light squeeze. “You’re fine right here. I just need a second.”

“Take your time. If you want me to back off or get closer, just let me know.”

Sonny Carisi is unbelievable. If it weren’t for how dedicated he was to upholding everything he said and maintaining transparency and authenticity, Rafael would be raising every defensive wall he had. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

Carisi chuckles. “It’s that good Catholic boy inside of me.”

“It’s more than that.” Rafael shifts, patting the spot Carisi previously sat and crossing his legs when Carisi returns to his side. It might be the heat of their bodies so close together or his own rising confidence, but he takes a deep breath and speaks with renewed vigor. “Do you remember what I said last week? When we were talking about erogenous zones?”

“Yeah, I remember. You said you didn’t mind me touching your back. Did you change your mind?” Before he can shoot down the question and worry, the rambling begins. “Because I understand, I don’t have to touch your back if you don’t want me to. We don’t even have to touch naked, or, y’know, have sex. I’m okay with just cuddling or, hey, we can even watch a movie—”

Rafael, sensing the rambling has only begun, grabs his shoulders firmly and squeezes them in a silent plea to simply listen. “Sonny. Dominick. The weekends we spend together are the longest physical relationship I’ve had with someone in a long time. And I enjoy being able to share this relationship with you.” Carisi’s smile encourages him to continue, a soft confirmation that his words are being heard and understood. It’s been a while since he’s opened up about something this deep and intimate. A majority of it was within reason, of course, in order to keep some semblance of privacy and ambiguity. But he knows they’ll go in circles if he doesn’t just admit his hesitance out loud. “You know how tough it was to get me to kiss you. It must have been, what, three months before I got used to it?”

Carisi shrugs. “I wasn’t keeping track. You know I didn’t care.”

“I did.”

“For someone who struggles with intimacy, you sure do like to keep track of it.”

Rafael shoots him a scalding look, more for being called out than disagreement. “My point is, intimacy was, or, is never easy for me, no matter who it’s for. And it baffles me how one touch on the small of my back makes me arch into you like a cat. It’s embarrassing, it’s strange, it’s borderline humiliating, and…” His subconscious wants to reveal all his insecurities, doesn’t it? “And the fact that it’s you doing it makes it a little more bearable. And that bothers me. What difference does one person make?”

“A whole lot, apparently.” Carisi takes his hand between his own and pats it gently. “I get what you’re saying. It’s pretty similar to your argument against erogenous zones. The difference one part of the body makes and all that jazz.”

“It’s the same conversation if you ask me.”

“Do you still want me to massage your back?”

Rafael hesitates. Not because he doesn’t know the answer—highly affirmative, probably close to demanding—but because he wants to prepare himself for what he’s about to agree to. It doesn’t matter if the night will end in sex; he decides he’s indifferent to that thought. He just wants to spend time with the man in front of him, blue eyes and gray temples and dimples and all. And what a terrifying thought that is.

“Yes,” he nods once. “I do.”

“We can go slow. I can just rub your back, no hormones allowed.”

Rafael snorts in amusement, but Carisi stays serious. He almost wants to kiss the neutral expression off. “I appreciate that. Your hands haven’t disappointed me yet.”

When they finally get to Rafael’s bedroom, and he finds himself lying on his stomach, naked save for his underwear, the lithe fingers and firm hands that run up his bare back feel more amazing than he could have thought. His back had always been sensitive, but now, outside of lustful activities and hazy minds, the feeling is tenfold. Carisi presses into every spot that screams for relief, almost like he can see the places that need his attention. His thumbs roll across his skin, brushing just against the rear of his shoulder bone. He isn’t even reaching his lower back, and already, Rafael wants to lean into his hands and purr for more attention.

Carisi leans forward, some of his hair brushing against his nape as he presses a tender kiss to the back of his neck. “You ever get a massage before?” He asks softly.

Rafael, saving his words for a time where he’s not distracted, just hums in affirmation and shifts his hips. Carisi rolls his fingers down to the base of his spine and then digs into his skin when he moves back up, mapping out his backbone like he was admiring the strength in it. The pleasured moan falls past Rafael’s lips at both the massage and the thought before he can stop it. Carisi just chuckles and presses firmly at a rough knot he finds.

“Make another sound like that and you might make it sexual.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Rafael huffs. He feels Carisi move behind him, his knees knocking against his thighs. A smirk plays its way on his lips. “Now who’s making it sexual? Straddling my  _ ohhh _ .” Rafael practically melts into the covers when Carisi’s palm kneads into the center of his spine. “That’s dirty.”

The only response he gets is a soft simper from behind and the continuous rolls over his bare back. Carisi’s hands feel heavenly, unrelenting in pressure and soft in its delivery. Rafael lets his eyes close for a moment to relish in the ministrations. Whatever sounds he makes are not his responsibility, not when hands that coarse and fingers that long are massaging every inch of his back, not when the ability to let his mind wander and relax is so available for him. Even if he had the ability to take a break from work regularly, he doubts he could ever find something as soothing as Carisi’s hands on his back.

Either he drifts off just enough to forget where he is or he genuinely dozes off, because the next thing he feels is Carisi shaking his shoulder. He opens his eyes to see the younger man sitting beside him on his knees, doubled over him. “You alright?” He wonders with a smile. “I think you fell asleep.”

“I guess I did,” Rafael mumbles, stifling a yawn into the crook of his elbow. He notices the instant change in his back when he sits up, the lack of stiffness that usually accompanies him from laying on his stomach for too long. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Just now or massaging in general?”

Rafael nearly plants himself face-first into the pillows on his bed. Did he seriously have to ask? “Take a wild guess.”

“Uh, I dunno. Maybe ten minutes. Not long.” Carisi sits back against the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Is my bare back that enticing?” Rafael smirks and leans over Carisi, kneeling just out of reach of his lips and dangling his body above his legs.

“I mean, I was focused on another type of barebacking, but let’s go with your version.” His cheeks are an impossible shade of ruby red, glowing in the thin light from the bedside lamps. How adorable. “Less vulgar.”

Rafael cocks an eyebrow, but he opts for plopping down beside Carisi and pull the covers back. “Hmm. I don’t mind your version.”

“Yeah?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all. But,” he can’t help but eye his phone on the bedside table, wondering how much movement it would take to look at the time, “we can talk about that later.”

Carisi follows his gaze and tries to reach for it, but he only ends up losing his balance and falling into Rafael’s lap with a grunt, followed by a huff when Rafael laughs at him. “If I had my watch on, I coulda given you an answer.”

“And miss you falling over yourself?” Rafael pulls the covers back and lets them fall over their bodies. He purposely lets the corners of the top sheet fall over Carisi’s shoulder and tugs him close with them to tease over his lips. “No thank you.”

Carisi closes the distance between them in retaliation and pulls the sheets over his head in the process. Rafael just tugs him down and holds him until they’re too tired to keep their mouths together and slide into an uneventful, gratified slumber.

 

* * *

Rafael wakes up first. The sun is just poking through the blinds, not enough to bother him and definitely not light enough to be anything beyond the early morning. He rolls his shoulder, still relishing in the lack of tension in his back, and moves closer to Sonny. The taller man always spreads his limbs out when he sleeps, and it must have been a restless night, judging by the position of his legs. The one closest to Rafael is practically falling off the bed, and one arm is lodged under Rafael’s neck while the other droops over the edge, resting just next to the bedside table. The rise of his chest is reassuring to watch, a pleasant reminder that this is real despite the scolding he gives himself for breaking the rules, and the small crease of his brows is endearing. Rafael has half a mind to reach over and caress his cheek and kiss him.

Before he can change his mind and debate the pros and cons of that idea, Sonny—Carisi is stirring and yawning loudly beside him. He brings his arms up to stretch them, popping his shoulders, and lets them drop heavily on the pillows. Rafael scoots closer and successfully stops himself from resting his head on his chest. That was a bit too romantic and something neither of them needed.

“G’mornin’,” Carisi murmurs to him. His accent drops out of him extra heavy in the morning.

“Morning,” Rafael returns the greeting with a soft smile.

“D’you just wake up?”

“Mhm.”

Carisi pushes himself up, blinking away whatever bleariness clouds his vision, and dips forward to kiss him. It would be romantic if they were a couple. It would be sweet if they did this every weekend and didn’t have strict guidelines for what was and wasn’t okay. It can’t be anything but what it is—a nice gesture—if they can’t even make eye contact during sex. So Rafael just responds: to be polite, or to return the gesture, he doesn’t focus on. Carisi had a habit of clearing his mind whenever their lips met.

And so Rafael lets him drag his mind away with only his mouth at work. He tugs Carisi closer by the shoulders and opens his mouth to invite him inside. The taste is nothing impressive—they must enjoy this a lot if neither of them mind morning breath—but the smell of Carisi around him, in his own bed, is enough to overwhelm his senses. And Carisi definitely isn’t any help if he’s going to slide over his body and slot himself between his legs. His hands trace little patterns on his skin, leaving goosebumps behind while he makes his way down and plants himself at his hips. Rafael turns into the grip and swallows the pleased hum.

There’s no hiding how hard either of them are, especially stripped to their boxers and nothing else. Carisi reminds him of his arousal by pressing his own tented cock against his thigh. Rafael moves his head back to gasp for breath, but he dives back in when Carisi’s hands lodge under his knees and pry them apart so he can kneel between them. He hooks his ankles together at the small of Carisi’s back and pushes his hips forward to create some much-needed friction between their clothed erections.

“Shit,” Rafael huffs out, “how long have you been waiting for this?”

Carisi smirks. “How long have I been awake?”

“Ridiculous.” He kisses him again, holding him closer by tightening his hand at his nape. The sound their lips make when they separate should not be as erotic as it is. “I should have known.”

“I like surprises.” Carisi pitches forward to playfully bite at his ear. “Y’want me inside you?”

Rafael reaches over to the drawer of his bedside table and pulls out a box of condoms. If they kept up this energy, they might go through the entire box today. It would be Carisi’s fault, obviously; Rafael had more control. And he wasn’t some lovesick, horny puppy who didn’t mind running through a box of condoms just for fun. (Rafael  _ used _ to be, for the record, but his age didn’t allow his body to be as promiscuous as his younger years. And he much preferred the one moment of pleasant euphoric highs as opposed to many instances of sweat-stained hips and clawed backs.)

Carisi fumbles with the box and slides a condom on while Rafael pushes the covers away and flops over on his stomach. The good Catholic boy behind him knew more than missionary, but if Rafael could get those hands on his back again, without asking or bringing out his suspicions, he might as well come now and get this round over with. And if he was going to try the one-handed trick again, he was better off not being an audience member and just letting it happen.

“Lube?”

Rafael reaches back into the drawer and holds out the tube of lubricant. Better to hand it over than toss it behind him; the last time either of them tried that, they nearly poked an eye out with the cap of the bottle. They didn’t have to be reckless to be safe.

His boxer briefs are slipped down just enough so that his ass is bare. If he didn’t know his bed partner, as Carisi had labeled them, he would ask what he was trying to do, but his impatience must be high. The bottle pops open, and Carisi is quick to press two fingers against his entrance. Rafael tenses, almost warning him against putting two in from the start (maybe “I’m not as young as you” would be a good argument for that) but he relaxes when his index finger is the only one that prods through. Slick, for sure, and enough for him to handle, but definitely cold. Rafael suppresses a shiver, steeling himself on his hands, and bites his lip.

“You couldn’t warm it up before you put it in?” He scolds, glaring over his shoulder.

“Next time, don’t throw your ass in my face.”

“So that’s what I felt. You ogling my ass.” Rafael sighs in mock disappointment. “To be fair, you were the one who pulled my boxers down.”

Carisi pinches his ass cheek with his free hand. “Uh-huh, sure, I was the one who told you to get on all fours.”

“Are you going to take them off?”

His finger pulls back, and Carisi applies a bit more lube before returning with two fingers to stretch him open. The friction and use of one finger warms the slick a little, but not by much. Rafael huffs in response and gets another pinch for his wordless comments. “I’m impatient, Barba, gimme a sec.”

If it weren’t for the fingers hurriedly preparing his ass, he would have tugged the offending underwear off himself. Hell, he could have done it now, if Carisi was going to press everywhere but his prostate and rub the sides of his entrance like he was washing a bowl and not stretching his asshole. But he decided against it—not out of laziness, but because he hadn’t been the one to pull them down. Carisi was the one who wanted to remove them, so it would be his responsibility to follow through.

“How’s’at?” Carisi spreads his fingers apart one more time before he pulls them out. “Good enough?”

“You’re  _ very _ impatient today,” Rafael muses, ignoring the question posed to him. He can practically hear Sonny’s eyeroll. “What, do you have a prior engagement? Somewhere else you have to be?”

“I wanna touch you.”

“You will.” Rafael reaches behind himself and, with a devilish idea in mind and one hand holding himself up, spreads his ass and pushes back towards Carisi. “In fact, just a second ago, you were knuckles-deep inside me. You didn’t have to stop.”

He relishes the hitched breath behind him and the dip of the bed as Carisi scoots closer to him. The underwear pooled down just enough to free his ass is bearable, for now, if Carisi is only going to move the waistband of his boxers down to free his cock. The fabric brushing against the back of his thighs is a clear tell, especially when it might not have him out all the way. Rafael tries not to break the mood by laughing at the image of Carisi’s dick dangling out of the slit of his boxers. “Fuck.”

“Come on. You can’t take one more minute making sure I’m ready for you?” Rafael steals a peek at his face—just his face, not his eyes—and nearly mewls at the slack expression and desperation that floods his face. “I’m ashamed of you, Carisi.” He makes sure the hand still holding his ass open flexes a bit, clutching the meat of his ass and squeezing it for a reaction. Get him where it matters: Carisi’s need for praise and Rafael’s ass on display. “I thought you could last longer than that.”

“I can!” Carisi plunges the two fingers back inside him, skipping over the hand holding him open in the process. Rafael hisses and tries not to drop fully onto his stomach from the pressure that runs through him. He uses his elbows to prop himself up when a shock of pleasure runs up his spine and coils through his limbs. His elbows and his knees are the only things keeping him from burying his face into a pillow and muffling the sounds he knows Carisi loves to hear. “You can’t get mad at me for getting distracted.”

Maybe not. But goddamn if Rafael wasn’t going to try to get under his skin and touch all the right weak points. “That’s it, Carisi, there you go. Atta boy.” He preens at the skirting tip against his prostate, folding back and pushing against him with a single rock on his elbows. The encouragement to praise him again, to push him to impress him and treat him good, comes in the nibble at his shoulder and the messy pecks that layer his neck, starting from his shoulder and stopping at his ear. “Right there, yes, c’mon, a little more, you got this.”

“Shit.” Sonny flattens against his back and nuzzles against his nape, his sigh tickling the thin hairs there and heating his skin. “Whatever you want, Barba. I’ll do it. I’ll do it so good, just watch.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.” Sonny pulls his hand out and pushes the head of his cock insistently against the cleft of his ass. They sigh in near unison, Rafael sagging from the pressure. “Fuck, yes, I promise, you’ll feel so good, I swear. Whatever you want from me.”

“Listen to what I tell you,” Rafael breathes out in disbelief at the words he’s about to utter, “alright? Can you listen to me?”

“Yes, Barba, anything you want.” They’re both far gone, drunk over his skin and the smell of sex that surrounds the room. The aroma weaves into the sheets and gets caught in whatever space remains between them without a chance to escape. Rafael inhales it when he pants, and it only spreads the satisfaction nestled in every pore of his body. “Fuck. Please. Tell me what to do.”

“Get inside me.”

Sonny shifts back so he can position himself in front of his entrance, and Rafael nearly collapses when he slides his cock inside. The mounting pressure doesn’t stop until he is seated all the way inside, and Sonny’s harsh breathing ricochets off the walls and down his spine. Rafael eases off of his knees, gradually, with Sonny’s guidance behind him, to prevent himself from falling flat on his face. He doesn’t trust the sudden tremble in his legs to keep him steady. And even if it means he has to lie on his stomach and push his cock into the bed, there is no risk of embarrassment.

“There we go,” Rafael seethes past a satisfied smile. “There you are. Good job, Carisi.”

Sonny whines and pushes himself closer. The slight shift of his hips has both of them reacting with startled gasps and pleased groans. “You’re so warm,” Sonny whispers into his shoulder. He presses a kiss against the spot; Rafael can feel his smile on his skin. “God, Barba, you’re so hot. I want all of you.”

“You have it.” He reaches behind him and doesn’t even have to search for the grip. Sonny entwines their fingers together and squeezes, and Rafael guides it around to gently peck the top of his hand. “You have me.”

“Alright.” Sonny rubs his hip gently, thumbing over his pelvic bone absently. The small pause and mindless worship of his body must fuel his confidence, because his next words are free from a distracted tremble. “Where do you want me? What’d’you want from me?”

“I need you,” Rafael gently wraps his fingers around his wrist and guides his hand to his lower back, “right here.” The same spot he had ghosted over last night, the same spot he had sparked a fire in last week, the same spot Rafael has been craving contact with since he realized how sensitive it was. He’s thankful the full-length mirror isn’t in view; he would hate to see the mess he’s become, from the cooling saliva on his mouth and shoulders to the heavy weight of his cock that is steadily damping his half-on boxer briefs. “Just here. Hold me down.” The sound that Sonny makes from the back of his throat is borderline feral, walking the line of aroused and unsurprising thirst. “Can you do that for me? Can you…” He wets his lips, huffs a soft breath. “Can you show me how well you listen?”

“Shit.” Sonny’s hands fly to his lower back; he places his palms on either side, mirroring his pelvis, his thumbs pressing just enough on the sensitive area to let him know of his presence. Rafael arches into the grasp, relishing in the dizzying rush he’s craved, but Sonny’s fingers clutch tighter and his thumbs force him down with the slightest pressure. Rafael is choking out a sob before he realizes it’s bubbling out of his throat. “Is this okay?”

Rafael can only nod. His throat struggles to bring in oxygen to his lungs and form words for his mouth, but neither function works. His attention is zeroed in on the hands pinning him down, the cock buried in his ass, and his own arousal nuzzled into his underwear, unable to slip free but still reminding him of his position. Sonny hasn’t moved his hips since he first entered, and his hands have made a home at his back, and he’s drowning in the ecstatic rush driving him into the bed. Even if there weren’t a pair of hands keeping him down, he wouldn’t have found the sense to sit up.

“Can I move?”

“Please.” The demand is hoarse, his efforts finally able to gasp in air and make a sound akin to a word, but it will do for now, for both him and Sonny.

The first thrust rubs Rafael’s cock straight into the sheet, held back only by the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. There is a triangle of pleasure keeping him on a frenzied plane above his body, starting from the easy pushes from behind, traveling up to the palms plastered on his lower back, and dripping down to his leaking member. His body is the center of an inferno that he has handed control over to Sonny, with his lithe hands and firm grip and kind thrusts that are nothing short of obedient. Rafael is the one on his stomach, but he has control. Anything he requests, Sonny will hear and follow.

“You feel amazing,” he sighs. Sonny is bent over him, panting and moving into him in a strange dichotomy of mindful caution and lustful want. A few beads of sweat fall from his person and land on Rafael’s back, a mock attempt to map out his spine. Rafael gives his hips an experimental swish, swaying once underneath Sonny, but the sturdy grasp remains without any hesitation and doesn’t allow him to move much. Just as he wanted. Just as he expected. “Good god, Carisi, you’re—fuck.” His hands fly to the pillow in front of him, just to have something between his hands. Reaching for Carisi seems a bit too intimate right now.

“Tell me.” Sonny halts to mouth at his shoulder, nothing but dull teeth and eager lips. “I need to know how good I’m doing, please, Barba.” His thumbs push insistently against his back, his fingers slipping along his hips, and Rafael keens, asking for more but unable to form the request. He tries to convey his need with his body, arching back, but with the force keeping him down, it’s nothing more than a wiggle.

“You’re incredible, Carisi, fuck.” His inhale shudders as he sucks in air between his teeth. There can’t be any greater feeling than this. “Very nice, very nice, your hands feel so nice. You know where to go.” He gets a deep thrust inside for the latter, and Rafael throws his head against his shoulder. And he thought he was the only one giving out rewards. “Yes! Right there!”

“Do you want me to go faster?” Sonny’s thrust forward is harder this time, and Rafael’s cock drags against the bedsheet. If he could move, he’d probably be able to fuck it.

“Yes, yes, god, do it.”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you hard? Move so far into you, I can feel it on my fingertips?”

Rafael clenches on instinct; Sonny bites his shoulder and rolls a groan down his back. “Shit. Do it.”

It’s the last thing Rafael is aware of saying before he loses himself to the frenzy of Sonny’s hips and the inability to move his body. He probably recites half the Spanish swears his mother warned him not to use as a child but he has zero control over his tongue. He relishes in the loss of control, and all because Sonny Carisi knows how to thrust into him and drive him mad with a few pounds of his hips. There is no doubt in his mind that the sounds they make—the panting that has him pressing his face against the bedsheet and wetting the spot he breathes into, and the grunts and whines bleeding behind and above him—will stay locked in the walls and echo around the room for a week.

They hadn’t thought of something like this before: one of them on all fours, unable to stay up from the pleasure that the other delivers with sharp thrusts and a steady grasp. They had tried the position before, the memories reminded him, but the other aspects were a new realm entirely. Rafael can feel his body flaring with the contact and spreading throughout the rest of him. Legs trembling, back tingling for even more pressure, his mind struggles to focus on one thing, so he lets go. The only thing keeping him grounded is the iron hold he has on the pillow in front of him. Without it, he would be floating on an ethereal plane of lust with only the hope of his climax bringing him back down.

Rafael returns briefly when Sonny’s right hand moves up his shaking hips and snakes its way to the waistband of his underwear. His intentions are clear without clarification, and it hits a soft spot in his heart that he would be taken care of. But the fact that his hand has to move away from where he wants it most is more important to him. Rafael’s hand flies behind him to grab Sonny’s wrist and return it to his back. “Stay here. Please. Stay here.”

“But your—”

“It’s fine.” Just a few more thrusts, a few more shoves inside, and he could tip over. “Just keep going. Almost there.” Sonny continues, both hands returning to smooth over his lower back, and Rafael chokes out a contented sigh. “Yeah, there you are, that’s a good boy. Just a little longer.”

Sonny lasts for three more thrusts inside and shudders inside him, letting out a trembling gasp, and buries his face into Rafael’s neck. The firm hands pushing harder on his back with the new position brings him quickly to his own end. A sticky wet feeling shrouds over his crotch, and he is immediately uncomfortable in this position. But he can worry about the stain he has definitely made and the evidence of sex later. He rides off the euphoria and buries his face into the pillow as he finally returns to himself and Sonny pulls out to flop beside him.

They stay silent, Rafael unwilling to move his limbs or peel his sweat-stained skin off the bed, and Sonny clearly content to lie beside him with just a finger’s worth of space between them. The air in the room cools off enough for Sonny to turn onto his side and fully face him, but he remains silent. His eyes simply roam up his chest to his face, a sated smile caving his dimples in, and it’s more than words could do. What a face to have next to him. What a man.

“So you came in your pants, huh?”

Rafael immediately takes back everything he had thought and shoves him away. Sonny rolls back over and lets out a loud laugh. “If you had been a little more patient, they could have come off.”

“Hey, to be fair, you could have done it yourself.”

“You started to take them off, you should have finished the job.” Rafael sits up with a huff and removes the dirtied boxer briefs with a grimace. At least he came  _ inside _ of them and not on the sheets. They could be salvageable. “I need a shower.”

“I’ll join you.” Sonny stretches and lets out a loud yawn that nearly tempts Rafael into tossing the pillow at him. “Or I can make breakfast.”

Rafael debates the benefits of having to share a shower—it saves water and they have more time together, but he is hungry, and if they get in together, they’ll spend more time watching each other than actual bathing. And he can’t remember the last time they had shower sex (too long, he decides, appreciating how easy it had been to prevent friction when there was water around them.) Although whether or not the offer is an entirely bad thing is up for debate, and Rafael refuses to even try to rationalize any of it. “If you want, you can join. It’s up to you.”

“Do you want me to?”

“I don’t mind.”

Sonny rolls his shoulder and, after a brief moment of thought, stands and follows Rafael to the bathroom.

 

* * *

To call what they do a shower is complicated.

Sonny has Rafael trapped between his arms—though it’s not so much “trapped” as it is “holding in an embrace for easier kissing access”—and the water splashes onto their bodies and drops between them. The soap and cloth that would have been used to clean themselves go untouched. It’s just the water between them and their hands sliding over wet skin, their lips dragging out every possible sound inside him. Rafael already feels his arousal swelling up again; how he’s able to recover so quickly, after not even fifteen minutes after climaxing, he has no idea. Maybe his body aged back a decade or two.

“Why do I feel like you planned this?” Rafael huffs.

Sonny shrugs and steps back so that he’s leaning against the tile wall. “I dunno. Maybe  _ you _ planned this. You brought up showering.”

“Sure, blame me for wanting to clean myself.”

“Technically, you can.” Sonny dips down so he can nip his jaw and smile into his cheek. “Nothing’s stopping you, right?”

Following the droplets sliding off the pale skin in front of him, Rafael grabs his biceps and silences him with another searing kiss. Sonny’s mouth opens immediately, and he groans into him when their tongues tangle together. Maybe it’s from using up a majority of their energy when they first woke up, or the fact that one wrong move on porcelain could bring them crashing down, but there’s something more sensual between them. Rafael doesn’t mind taking his time kissing every sound out of Sonny, and he finds no objection to the arms keeping him closed in. If the water is cold, he doesn’t notice; the warmth from their contact and proximity is enough to keep him distracted.

While their mouths are preoccupied, Rafael’s hands travel down Sonny’s hips to cup his thighs. It always amazes him how even his muscles are distributed across his body since one glance at the lanky form barely shows it off. There has to be some type of family secret from his Nonna that allows him to eat whatever he wants without any concerns for the weight he’ll gain. Rafael would appreciate it either way; Sonny is attractive in his own way. His prominent nose is endearing, especially when it brushes against his cheek when he tilts his head to kiss him. His smile produces a natural warmth that spreads throughout his entire body at every point of contact. But Rafael is a firm believer that his personality is what makes him so beautiful: his willingness to help others, the double-edged sword of kindness for those in need and cruelty for those doing wrong, the little gestures he pulls off for his squad and his family and those who mean the most to him—

What a fool, Rafael scolds himself. Daydreaming about a man a decade away from him while he shoves his tongue down his throat and grabs every inch of his body. His mind must have moved back twenty years with his body if he’s thinking like a lovesick puppy. Sonny did that enough for both of them.

“You thinkin’ ‘bout something?” Sonny asks. His accent isn’t nearly as rough as earlier, but his voice is husky from the lack of speaking. With the amount of talking he does per day, it’s a wonder his body doesn’t shut down when he’s too preoccupied to speak.

Rafael shrugs nonchalantly, his hand ghosting over the half-hard erection. He scratches at the base of Sonny’s cock to simultaneously tease him and relish in the hoarse cry he gets in response. “Just a bit. Hope that’s okay.”

Sonny licks his lips, his head banging against the wall when he throws it back and bares his throat. “S-sure, yeah. Fine by me. Think away.”

“Thank you.” Rafael gives his balls a little squeeze before he returns to his hip and scratches softly at his pelvis. He has to bite back a smile from the satisfied sigh he gets for his ministrations and worships. “I hope it’s not too loud.”

“Just a little.” He smirks coyly and adjusts his footing, tracing a pattern with the pads of his fingers into his back. Rafael is at least thankful he only curves into his touch and hums with satisfaction and doesn’t embarrass himself with any unwarranted noise. “I bet if I looked at your face I’d see it.”

_ Go ahead. _ The words are at the tip of his tongue, ready to be said and forever throw their rules out of the shower and their private space overall. Rafael steels himself and pushes the thought away by digging his teeth into his clavicle with the strength he would have used to confess. He couldn’t do that to Sonny. Not unprompted, not in the heat of the moment, and not in a shower with growing erections between them.

“I can always tell you. What’s on my mind.” It’s safe enough that he won’t break the rules or reveal the thoughts that had crossed his mind. Not to mention that he gets to watch the dimples form with a smile as nice as his. “But…” Sonny scrunches his nose, but Rafael soothes it with soft pecks on his cheek. “Secrets are more fun.”

“Don’t tease me like this.” Rafael pretends not to hear him and hums into his neck. Teasing was a good idea, actually. Too bad he hadn’t thought of it first. “Are you ignoring me?” A kiss for his neck, a bite for his pulse, a lick for his jaw. The back of his head hits the wall but if he’s bothered by it, Sonny has no reaction for it. “Barba.”

“Hmm?” Rafael moves back with a smile filled with nothing but mirth. “Were you saying something, Sonny?”

Shit. The name was out before he could reel it back in. He curses himself for conjuring the idea of breaking the rules in the first place. If he hadn’t had the intrusive thought, he might have been able to avoid it. He can’t even hope for Sonny to miss the slip and miss it completely. The wide blue eyes and slack jaw above him tell him everything he wanted to ask and everything he cannot change.

Sonny hasn’t moved his arms back, and Rafael takes that as a good sign. He might be able to argue that the embrace got tighter, but the fact that Sonny is keeping his eyes trained on him makes it difficult to focus. Rafael opens his mouth—to apologize, to take it back, to clear the air and clarify what he meant—but he knows nothing will work. The rules they had set up were broken. Just like that.

A smile rises on his face, much more reminiscent of the energy they had had before. Still a good sign. “I dunno, Rafael. You tell me.”

Oh. Well. That changes things.

This is definitely a test; Sonny looks away as soon as he says it as if nothing was said in the first place. But the way it comes out, tumbling past well-kissed lips into the humid air and the steamy droplets between them, should not be as pleasant as it is. Rafael’s stomach flips and tumbles when he hears his name—as if it’s the first time he’s heard it. If only one person was suddenly allowed to use his first name, he would give that chance to Sonny.

“Can I fuck your thighs?”

Rafael feels rather than sees the stare he’s fixed with when he blurts out the question. He must be taking a page out of Sonny’s book if he’s going to blurt out unprompted nonsense. “My legs?”

“Mhm.” He runs his hands down pale thighs and shifts his hips just enough to brush the head of their cocks together. The hiss Sonny lets out sends an amused chill down his spine. “I like your legs.”

Sonny laughs. “Eloquent. Is this the same Rafael Barba who tears perps and defense attorneys apart?”

“Don’t bring work into this. I’m just now getting my arousal back.” Damn libido taking its time. At least he had a good view to keep him occupied.

“Fine. Talk about my giraffe legs.” Rafael huffs as he shifts into a better standing position, taking precaution to not fall and crack his head open, using Sonny’s hips for balance. “That’s what you called them!”

“I called them giraffe legs after the one time you tried to catch a rapist and nearly tripped over yourself. And it’s not exactly a lie.” He waves off the disgruntled glare Sonny throws at him. “The name stuck, what do you want from me? Turn around.”

Sonny rolls his eyes but does as requested, unfortunately ruining the warm space around Rafael to press his hands against the tile. They had done their fair share of intercrural sex—mostly when they were in a hurry, and not always in the comfort of their homes—but they had learned the hard way how difficult it was to fuck his thighs when face to face. Sonny didn’t mind as much but Rafael insisted they do it from behind. And here they are.

“You know,” Sonny starts as Rafael helps guide his legs together, making sure the shower water has provided enough to the inside of his thighs to prevent any unpleasant friction. Another lesson learned the hard way. “Baby giraffes are born at six feet. We have something in common.”

Finding little resistance to the creamy skin, giving just a few slick rubs for reassurance, Rafael pushes forward and nudges his swelling cock between Sonny’s thighs. The head breaks through to the other side, nestling past his scrotum to rest at the base. The one thing that gets through his hazy mind is how they don’t do this nearly enough. Sonny letting out a soft cry and bringing his legs closer together, if possible, is exhilarating. “You were born six feet tall?”

“N-no, I’m saying,” Sonny leans against the bathroom wall to gather his breath, and his legs shimmy to accommodate for Rafael’s girth, “I’m as tall as a newborn giraffe.”

“Sure.” Wrapping his arms around Sonny’s waist, Rafael starts to move against his thighs. Each clench around him sends a shiver through him and cools the flames that ripple over his skin.

“Did you know,” a break for a breath, a sigh at the open-mouthed kisses Rafael starts to layer over his skin, “male giraffes practice mating with—” a firm thrust that traps his cock between the tiled wall and Rafael’s own arousal sends his voice shooting up an octave and tipping into a shocked moan, “with each other so they can impress females?”

“You’re rambling,” Rafael points out.

“Yeah, well, if I stop, I’m just gonna whine the entire time.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Sonny scoffs, and sure enough, the second the words stop flowing from his mouth, a dam of pure sound breaks from inside him. He is nothing but breathless keens and straining moans that bounce out of his throat just to meet his ears. Each push Rafael puts against his thighs is met with an equal shove back. The tip of his dick rubs against Sonny’s and runs along the underside, and his fingers scrape on the tile for purchase. Rafael offers his hand, using the other to help keep a steady and even pace, and Sonny takes it quickly, wrapping it around him for leverage. He throws his head back to let out a soft yell when their bodies slide together, his Adam’s apple bobbing with his gulps of air and rough swallows.

“There’s nothing wrong with this,” Rafael reminds him again, whispering the words into his ear. “Nothing to be ashamed of. You sound so nice.”

Sonny clamps his legs together, his free hand dropping down to give himself some attention. With one hand stroking himself and the other gripping Rafael’s hand, he has no choice but to press his cheek and upper body against the tile wall. Rafael’s arm gets trapped between his chest and the wall but he doesn’t mind it when the motion of Sonny’s hand jerking up and down his cock adds a touch of friction to the thrusts between his thighs and an extra push back against him. There’s not much closer the two of them can get. And when Rafael pushes through his thighs, he feels the dangle of fingers, teasing him with an extra touch. “Keep talkin’. Your voice is amazin’.”

“Do you like to hear me talk?” Rafael pushes closer against him, enjoying the touch of slick skin against his chest. “Or do you just like the words I’m using?”

Sonny groans, shutting his eyes at a particularly hard thrust. “Don’t make me answer that.” Rafael stalls his hips, and the irritated cry that comes from his mouth is worth the brief pause. “Rafael! C’mon, don’t start like this!”

“You still have your hand.” The arm he has around Sonny slips down his abdomen and grips the head of his cock. Encouraged by the high-pitched whine of pleasure, Rafael follows his hand up his shaft and squeezes. “You’re doing good. Your thighs feel incredible. Fuck, Sonny, how do you do it?”

Sonny clenches his legs together and moves along his thighs when the friction stops. The mewls he lets slip and the gasps for air at every word Rafael utters shows him what Sonny was looking for. A verbal answer was never needed.

 

* * *

“I think my age is showing.”

Sonny is running a towel over his head and facing the mirror when Rafael makes the remark. Once they had both climaxed, and Sonny’s thighs had been pleasantly stained with come, the time it took to clean was much quicker. Sonny had let him wash his hair while he talked about whatever breakfast food he had on his mind. It was pleasant for the moment and after for the memories: Rafael took his time admiring the long legs struggling to stay up and the streaks of white that stood out among the droplets of water.

“What makes you say that? He asks, pausing at the gray that has gathered at his temples but brushing over it with the towel.

“I’ve orgasmed twice this morning and I’m already thinking about taking a nap.”

Sonny scoffs softly and drops the towel in the hamper behind the door. “Mid-morning naps. I’ve heard of them. He runs a hand over his damp hair and lingers once more at the gray hairs. “You could take one if you want while I cook breakfast.”

Rafael shoos his hand away and pats down the hair he toys with. “I think it’s nice.”

“My hair or mid-morning naps?”

“Carisi.”

He gets a teasing kiss to his cheek and a soft laugh for the chiding. “You can call me Sonny. We already broke that rule.”

Rafael winces at the mention—he truly hadn’t meant to say his name, but something inside him says that might be a bit of a stretch on the truth—and swallows the retort he has planned. “Sonny. I think it’s safe to say that my body will take a while to respond to whatever advancement we make next.”

“I know. I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?”

Sonny shakes his head with a disbelieving look. “Are you kidding me? I don’t care if we have to wait. I’m not here for the sex.”

“Technically,” Rafael waves a hand between them, as if to emphasize the agreement they had made, and frowns, “what we have is strictly based around sex.”

“Not this weekend. We just needed some company after a tough week.”

Rafael eyes him for any sign of dishonesty, knowing full well he won’t find it; of course Sonny would be open with him. Of course he would label this weekend as two people gathering for some company and not put it into their routine of sex and debauchery. “Right. Just company.”

“I mean, if you want it to be more than that, we can. Just—”

“Dominick, we’ve had sex twice already.”

 

* * *

They have sex. (Again.)

If he was asked who started it, Rafael would have to point at Sonny. He was only making coffee for them; he didn’t expect Sonny to put on some music and dance around his kitchen while he prepared a frittata. Those hips, swaying to the beat, the light singing and harmony he provided to the track–and it wasn’t that bad, maybe a bit off-key, but certainly pleasant to listen to. Rafael wasn’t paying attention to the music (although he supposes “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel  _ could _ apply to them if he really thought about it) thanks to the sudden urge he found to push Sonny against the counter, tug his cock out from the slit in his boxers, and wrap his lips around him.

So far, it was great. Sonny had yelled at least twice and encouraged him to go deeper, and the tip of his cock had accidentally hit Rafael’s throat once from overeager thrusts. His “punishment” was that Rafael had to hold him down against the counters, but that being considered a punishment was a bit generous. Sonny only got louder the less he could move his hips.

“Oh, jeez,” he huffs, Rafael ghosting a thumb around the base and teasing with a bit of pressure against it. “Your mouth is so hot.”

Rafael hums in approval and bobs his head, suckling on the tip. He stays in place for a moment to let the taller man squirm against the edge of the counter and try to buck forward. If he wasn’t holding them down, the head would have definitely nudged the back of his throat again. Rafael takes advantage of the dulled motion by caving in his cheeks, and the moan that leaps from his lips is sinful.

“There’s—” Sonny swallows roughly, and he taps on the counter. “I spilled egg. On your counter.”

He pulls off his cock with a slick pop and licks his lips. “Then clean it up.”

“I’m a little busy!” Sonny snaps, but he returns to broken groans and shivering hips when Rafael takes him to the base.

After a few more moves like that, Sonny doesn’t last much longer. Rafael doesn’t mind, even if his throat is a bit sore, as long as he gets to hear sounds like that.

 

* * *

Sonny points to the slice of frittata on his plate with a satisfied noise. “This is good.”

Rafael rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Give your compliments to the chef.” A nudge under the dining room table—once cleared of its work mess, of course—is his only retort. “You definitely outdid yourself this time.”

“Honestly, I’m more surprised I made it on time.”

“Trust me, I would never let you ruin a meal like that.”

“I wouldn’t either! Actually,” Sonny muses quietly for a second, and then his lips show off a bright grin, “if you’re the distraction, I might ruin it if it meant I got to have more of you to myself.”

Rafael smirks at the comment. “Possessive, I see.”

“Nah. Only when you’re naked.” Sonny steals a bite of frittata from his plate and laughs when Rafael nearly kicks him out of his chair.

 

* * *

Rafael enjoys the sensation of Sonny coming in his mouth while his own thighs frame his head. In this position, with Sonny underneath him thrusting up into him while he sucked down his own arousal, there is no way he could resist everything offered to him. And he knows it goes the other way as well: whatever Rafael gives him, Sonny will be there to capture it.

Once again spent, Rafael backs off him and flops to the bed, curling his feet away from Sonny’s head. There’s a rustle of the sheets and a sinking weight caves the mattress, and forbidden blue eyes pop up into his vision with a content smile. It’s entirely unreal how beautiful he is. He meant what he said earlier about the gray hairs at his temple; the silvery strands are more of a compliment than any other part of his body. He reaches up to run the tips of his fingers against the shade affectionately, and they share quiet smiles.

“It’s been a while since we sixty-nined like that.”

Rafael smacks his arms and rolls over so his back is turned to Sonny, who only laughs in response. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Hey, it was just an observation,” Sonny coos and scoots close enough to press against his back. Rafael thinks about pushing him away but decides settling against him is easier than fighting the affection. He leans back into the embrace Sonny throws around his waist. “I would never shame you.”

“I don’t feel ashamed.” He turns so he can face Sonny and holds his blue gaze with an upward twitch of his lips. “But I am a bit bothered.”

“Maybe there’s something I can do about that.” Sonny ducks his head to peck up his neck and hum against his skin. “You got one more round in you?”

“If I come that hard again, you’ll have to wheel me to a hospital.” Despite his heavy breathing and the rapid thrums of his heart against his ribcage, there might be one last round in him for the day. But after that, he would be more exhausted than if he had gone running for the entire day. “But,” he makes room between his legs for Sonny to slot through and easily connect their hips, “I think I can make room for you.”

“I think you already have.” Sonny wiggles his hips for emphasis and kisses him. Even though his words and movement have a teasing bite to them, the kiss is chaste and slow. Rafael interprets it as a sign of what they could have if they didn’t push each other away. Sonny’s lips are soft and familiar, and they know how to make him sigh and press for more. The smell of sex is still weaved into every corner of the room, and it’s with little time that Rafael feels himself begin to swell again.

“Are you dabbling in witchcraft?” He pulls back to ask. His question warms the air between them.

Sonny snorts, leaning down to gently push their noses together. “Is this another attempt at a pickup line?”

“No. I want to know if you’re doing anything to send my body back twenty years.”

“Mm.” He pecks his cheek and moves back. “That’s a secret.”

Rafael turns them over so that Sonny is the one on his back and pulls him to his chest when their mouths meet again. His lips had always been soft, especially the lower one, which Rafael nibbles on playfully. He can feel the rise of his chest and the deep sigh he emits, and the soft chill that races up Sonny’s pale skin is transmitted to him. “Tell me all about it.” One hand traces up his cheek to clench around his hair and the other falls between them to grab onto his cock. Sonny chokes, whether it’s because of either or both hands is unknown, and his hips piston forward to beg for more.

“D’you want me to say anything,” Sonny pants into his ear, “or are you just gonna kiss me?”

With a shrug, Rafael stills his hand and rolls his hips forward. The hand in sloppy blond locks tightens as he does, releasing a chorus of whines tumbling from Sonny’s mouth. “If there’s no other way for you to get your words across, I guess we don’t have much of a choice.” He makes a point of capturing his lips again and pours all the passion he can muster into the gesture. “I enjoy kissing you too much to make you stop.”

“You’re lucky it’s a secret.” Sonny, hands trembling, reaches around to his lower back and gently rubs against the area, massaging in slow circles. Rafael arches instantly, and a deep rumble of pleasure ripples out of him, not unlike the content purring of a cat. “B’cus I might feel obligated to tell you everything if you stopped.”

“Impressive. I’ll have to try it out.”

“Don’t even joke about it.” Sonny plants a kiss on his chin, then his nose, and finally in between. “Rafael—Raf, fuck, right there!”

Rafael adjusts his grip to make room for his own growing arousal—and this is certainly the most he’ll be able to do, god, this man is going to kill him—and brushes against Sonny while holding him in place. Sonny curves into him, his eyes searching the ceiling in some sort of plea for more, judging by the frantic begging that drips from his mouth like a leaky faucet. Rafael presses into his neck with his eyes shut. Just hearing the breaths he takes, with the faint presence puffing out between them, is enough to raise his arousal. Just when he thinks Sonny is done affecting him, and he keeps on going.

“You sound amazing,” Rafael remarks fondly.

“Takes one to know one,” Sonny just about manages to spit out before his body shivers. Rafael can only assume that his sounds are equally embarrassing, probably a bit more controlled. But if he keeps on pressing against him and trapping his hips between his hand and his cock, there’s not going to be much left for him to control.

Sonny’s body moves in a strange contortion to get closer to the hands planted in his hair and the fingers wrapped around his dick. The movement stretches him out, bares his throat, applies a glimmer of light to the shine of his skin. When both ways prove to be too little of what he wants, he relaxes against the covers with an impatient exhale and thrusts forward. Some of the precome leaking from his tip slicks up the grasp between them; the rest dribbles down Rafael’s hand. Rafael dives down to nip the curve of Sonny’s neck before he accidentally makes eye contact; they’ve already broken two of their rules. Better to keep them intact than ruin them all in one weekend.

“Can you…” Sonny tries to get out, and Rafael wraps his fingers around the base of his arousal and squeezes. A tight sound is ripped from his chest. “Yeah! Uh-huh, right there!”

“You make such sweet noises,” Rafael whispers to him. “How do you do it?”

“Another secret.” A kiss lands on his neck, right under his ear. “Maybe I’ll share it sometime.”

Rafael drags his hand up, keeping the tight hold, and moves his hips so that their cocks are, finally, brought together side by side. Sonny claws his back and writhes up against him for more. The flaming arousal from having his back touched makes his toes curl and his thighs tighten. “That would be nice.”

He isn’t sure what compels him to move back at that moment. Rafael thinks it might be the distraction provided by the hand digging into his back that limits his train of thought and the words he forms. Either way, he moves away from Sonny’s neck and finds himself staring right into his eyes. He never quite gets over how blue those irises are, or the amount of emotion they reveal, and he nearly lets himself fall into them and forget everything about this situation. But he can’t. Because of the rules.

“I wasn’t staring,” Sonny hurriedly assures him, pulling Rafael down by the neck to break eye contact. “Heh. Funny, didn’t even know you, uh, had eyes.”

“I do.” Oh, fuck it. If Sonny is going to sound that rejected over mere eye contact—which they only restricted during sex—who were they to try and hold back? Rafael stops his ministrations, removing his hand from both of them. “I can…use them too.”

Sonny pulls away; he looks skeptical but interested, which is more than he could ask for. As wordless as the confirmation could be, he needs to hear a verbal affirmation before they go further. “Really? Is that okay?”

Rafael nods. “Yes. If you’re okay with it, you have my permission. For eye contact.”

“That’s…” Sonny shifts his legs, brushing against Rafael’s thighs as he stretches them out and gets comfortable again. “That sounds nice. I’m okay with it.”

“Okay. Good. That sounds good.” Rafael adjusts his position over Sonny so that the tips of their cocks are aligned. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah. I’ve been ready.” Sonny smiles, and Rafael can’t help but fall into his gaze: honest and open, bluer than any clear sky he’s seen, and glad to be with him. A wave of contentment washes over him, something he hopes Sonny can feel too, and he makes the first thrust forward. Deep sounds of pleasure ripple through both of them, encouragement for the sensations running through his body. Rafael wraps his hand around them, glancing down to check his position—right over both of them, slick enough for little resistance, perfect—and then looks back up as he starts moving his hips and rolling his hands up their shafts.

The rest of the world—whatever sounds bleed through the windows, or the ones limited to his apartment—is blocked out the second he makes eye contact with the man beneath him. Wide-eyed and thrumming with excitement, Sonny holds his face between his hands and breathes softly. His lips are enticing, open and slick with spit; he loves everything about those lips. The indents they make when they stretch in a smile, the firmness of a neutral expression, the words that fall out of his mouth without restraint or any real goal except to talk and make noise. Rafael refuses to block out the wonderful groans and gasps that keep on falling out, so he layers kisses over his jaw and cheek to fight the urge of silencing him for even a second.

The only difference in the added eye contact is the amount of intimacy loaded between them. Before tonight, Rafael could say their romantic affection was present but not very strong. And overall, he enjoyed the time he spent with Sonny on weekends. He liked touching him and having himself be touched in return, experiencing the mere feeling of fingertips brushing over bare skin. And if they didn’t have sex, the sessions of cuddling under the couch and sharing conversations and stories were equally pleasant in their own way. It was terrifying to feel something so strong for someone else, especially considering who that person was. But it would be okay because Sonny had his back and would be there to steady him and remind him that he was safe. All he needed to do for the reminder was look up. He could forgo the rules to help justify the feelings brimming inside him.

“Is this alright?” Rafael asks, struggling to gather and steady his breath. Sonny nods vigorously and his hands fly to his shoulders, digging into the skin. “Yeah?” He applies the slightest squeezing pressure to his hands. Sonny bucks instantly into them.

“Your eyes are amazing,” he huffs out. “Seriously, Raf, they’re…” Sonny lets out a rough exhale and smiles at him. “Beautiful.”

Shit. Rafael resists hiding his face in his shoulder and chuckles quietly. “Really. Well, you must know from experience.”

“Nah, see—” Sonny shuts his eyes for a brief second to groan and bare his neck, but they fly open when Rafael’s free hand tangles with his. “Nothing compares to you. That’s just the truth.”

White explodes behind his eyes. His body tenses as he empties into his hand and onto Sonny’s lap. All he can sense is Sonny’s eyes on him, feel his body clench and thrash and release, hear the gasp and cry that he pulls out of him. Rafael couldn’t ask for much more from him, even if he tried to think of something. The rapid beating of his heart and the exhaustion in his body, which will most likely cross over into tomorrow, is worth it.

When they finish, both Rafael’s hand and Sonny’s stomach covered in white, Rafael collapses beside him and lets out a long sigh. Sonny stays still, probably just as spent but still as enticing as before. If he woke up to that sight every morning, he would have no complaints.

“That was…” Rafael begins to say, but he stops short of revealing everything he wants Sonny to know. That would be for a later date. They already broke the rules. “Well. That should last us for another few weeks.”

“Yeah.” Sonny laughs quietly. “God, I haven’t felt this worn out in a while.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

They lay in silence for a while, Rafael focusing on regaining a steady rhythm of breathing. Sonny gets up after a brief pause to clean himself off and bring a fresh washcloth to the bed, and he sits back on the bed with his legs crossed. He doesn’t say anything as he passes the hand towel over, but Rafael can already sense a question rising on the tip of his tongue. If he could pinpoint what exactly he wanted to say, maybe he would stop him from saying it. They didn’t need any distractions.

Rafael sits up to thoroughly cleans himself off with the washcloth and puts it aside on the table when he’s finished. He moves over, cautiously, to Sonny and—tentatively, cautiously—rests his head on his shoulder. He keeps his eyes down, but the calm smile can be heard in his voice. “You falling asleep?” Sonny asks in a low voice.

He nods. “That midmorning nap is starting to sound a lot better after that.”

“Go ahead and take it. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Rafael glances up at him with a soft simper. “And leave you to clean up breakfast and scrub my apartment? I don’t think so.”

“I’d join you,” Sonny insists. He starts to reach over, as if to grab his waist and hold him close, but he stops and drops his hand in his lap. The disappointment that rises in his chest shouldn’t be as strong.

“You can touch me.” Rafael takes his arm and gently guides him to his waist. Sonny’s fingers tug him close instantly. “I don’t mind.”

“I wanted to be sure. It’s not every day you break the rules for the sexual relationship you have with a coworker.”

“Fair point.” Sonny chuckles but says nothing in response. Somehow, that’s worse than a verbal answer. “I hope you know I would do it again. I don’t regret breaking the rules.”

Sonny grimaces. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“If I ask what’s bothering you, will you give me an honest answer?”

“I’m not worried, honest. You fixed it.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Rafael.” Sonny presses against his forehead. “I promise. You’re okay with not having the rules anymore, I’m okay.”

Rafael looks over his face looking for any signs of hesitance or denial but he can’t find any. Of course not—when has Sonny lied to him? “Is that all?”

He shrugs. “Half of it. You joke about my, what’d you call it, natural rule-following?”

“That sounds right.”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said that following those rules we had was hard to do. Do you know how many times I’ve stopped myself from using your name?”

“Only if you know how many times I’ve stopped myself from looking at your eyes.” Rafael jabs his elbow into Sonny’s side when a bright, teasing grin sprouts on the younger man’s face. “And if you ever bring up how sappy that sounds to anyone, I  _ will _ press charges. For defamation.”

“ _ Barba v Carisi _ , the ultimate fight. We can go on ‘Judge Judy.’”

“That was a low blow. You’re lucky I like your face.”

Sonny kisses his nose. “In all honesty, though? I’m glad to call the rules off. Maybe we needed them when we first started this thing, but after a while, there’s not really a point to it. I mean, let’s be real here, you’ve seen my dick how many times now and you still can’t say my name?”

“It is complicated.” Even if they had only been having a fling for a few, nearing on six, months at this point, it suddenly makes zero sense to have the established rules. They were meant for their time figuring things out. Perhaps letting go of them would help define their relationship a little better than a mere fling. “We should be careful when we schedule something. Otherwise, I don’t have any complaints.”

“For now, at least.” Rafael scoffs at him and pushes him onto the bed. Sonny laughs, wrapping his arms around Rafael’s waist and tugging him down. “It sounds like a good plan though. I’m glad we sorted it out.”

“So am I.” Rafael settles against him with a sigh. The urge to rest his eyes grows the longer he sits with Sonny’s warmth underneath him. He glances up at him before he falls under. “You said you’ll be here?”

“Of course,” Sonny whispers quietly under his breath. He nuzzles his neck with his nose, kissing the spot after. “I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

There is no telling what the lack of rules will lead them. Or even if Sonny will still be around when he wakes up (well, actually, that’s a given, considering how honest and loyal he is). For now, Rafael will sleep and enjoy the time he has snoozing with an attractive detective in his arms. He can find his answers later.

**Author's Note:**

> I ended with a dick joke haha
> 
> Hopefully, with me posting this, I can convince my brain that it has indeed made progress and it can rest knowing that all of this writing was for something. And hopefully it won't be twelve years from now!


End file.
